


Talk

by saintdyke



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, puck n rachel bonding plus married brittana, quinn is Troubled and Mysterious and rachel is thirsty, quinn’s dad is a big ole bitch, rachel and quinn are just so gay, russell fabray is a senator, sam and santana are very protective of quinn, sam is basically quinn’s brother and they’re pure, the brittana and marley/kitty are just side relationships, this is basically just quinn getting the love and support she deserves from her found family, very quinn centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-12-25 21:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18270047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintdyke/pseuds/saintdyke
Summary: (Previously titled Grease Stains, Starry Skies) Famous actress Rachel Berry’s car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. A pretty blonde with a blue truck rescues her from the side of the road, and just so happens to own an Auto Repair shop in town. Quinn is frustrating and mysterious, and Rachel is just as stubborn. Together, they start a revolution.





	1. Chapter 1

Everything about the car was, well, awful.

Every hinge was coated in rust, the stereo didn’t work, and the seats were lumpy. So, when smoke began to billow from under the hood, Rachel was far from surprised. Irritated? Yes, but surprised? Not in the slightest. Sighing loudly to herself, she turned on her hazards and pulled over to the shoulder of the highway. After banging her head on the steering wheel a few times, she flipped open her cell phone to call the nearest Triple A. But of course, there was no service. She was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the endless wheat fields of rural Ohio. Rachel waved her phone around for a few minutes, trying and failing to get service, before slamming it shut in frustration and resting her head on the steering wheel. She could’ve easily avoided this situation; her manager, Kurt, had tried to convince her to let him hire a driver to take her to her parents’ house in New York City, but she insisted on making the journey alone, to clear her head and take a break from the hectic lifestyle of a Broadway actress and Hollywood starlet. The shitty car had also been her idea- to remain ‘inconspicuous’ as she crossed the country from California to New York. Only now was she realizing that it was an awful one.

Rachel Berry had many, many talents, but fixing cars was not one of them. She didn’t even bother getting out of the vehicle to assess the damage; she just turned the car off and hoped it wouldn’t explode, or at least, for someone to drive by and save her before it went up in flames. She wasn’t liking her odds, though. No one had traveled down the beaten down, gravel road in the ten minutes she’d been pulled over, and it was already 8:30 at night. The residents of this small farm town were all probably already sleeping. Rachel was considering leaving the car behind and walking to the nearest sign of civilization when headlights reflected in her rearview mirror. She cheered to herself when she saw the car pull over behind her. Despite her initial elation, she quickly fell down a rabbit hole of different irrational fears, such as the person being an axe murderer or a crazed fan. Just when she was thinking about how she would prefer an axe murderer, a light knock on her window made her jump. With one hand on her heart to calm her breathing, she rolled down the window with the crank, which was in serious need of some oil. She was greeted with a mess of short, wavy blonde hair and warm hazel eyes filled with concern.

“Hey, miss, are you having some car troubles?” the woman asked, voice light and raspy. She brushed away a few strands of hair that had escaped the grasp of the sunglasses that were perched atop her head, and Rachel smiled and nodded.

“It just started smoking, the engine, I guess, and I didn’t know what to do, and there’s no cell service here because I’m in the middle of a bunch of cotton fields-”

“Woah, woah, slow down, miss,” the woman said with a small giggle. She opened the door for Rachel, who stepped out reluctantly. “I can take a look at it for you, come with me.” Rachel followed the woman to the front of her car, and watched as she popped the hood. Before she leaned over to get a closer look, she smiled brightly at Rachel and said, “By the way, we’re in the middle of a buncha wheat fields.” Rachel blushed, slightly embarrassed, as the woman’s brow furrowed and she waved her hand to make the smoke dissipate.

“How can you even see anything in there?” Rachel wondered. The blonde turned to her.

“I can’t, it’s too dark. But, I can tow this hunk of junk over to my place and my guys can take a look at it for you.” At Rachel’s questioning raised eyebrow, she added, “I own the car shop in town. You’re really not from around here, are you?”

“Definitely not,” Rachel responded with a laugh. The woman smiled brightly.

“Well, you can ride with me to the shop,” she said as they walked over to her light blue pick-up truck. The woman opened the passenger side door and looked at Rachel expectantly. “Hop in.”

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer or something?”

"You don’t. But your options are stick with me or stay in the wheat fields all night. Your choice.” Rachel laughed again.

“Yeah, I’ll take my chances with you.” She climbed into the truck and the blonde closed the door after her before jogging around and getting behind the wheel. When the vehicle roared to life, Rachel grinned as Frank Sinatra played softly through the speakers. After maneuvering the truck so the back was facing Rachel’s car, she hopped out, grabbed a tow strap from the bed of the truck and went to hook the car to the truck. Rachel assessed her surroundings; tan leather seats, a pair of foam dice hanging from the rearview mirror, strawberry air freshener and dog hair. When the woman returned, Rachel was humming softly to Fly Me to the Moon.

“So, where are we?”

“Lima, Ohio. Technically. We won’t get to town for another ten minutes or so. Most of it is farmland, but once you get past all the wheat, we’ve got a nice little community. At least, I think so. City folk like you tend to think it’s too much of a simple life.” Rachel scoffed at the insinuation of her character, and they made small talk about Lima until they pulled into a small gravel parking lot. The sign next to the building read **S and Q’s Auto Repair** in green, cursive letters. One of the three garage doors was open, and the inside was lit with a large, overhanging dim yellow light. Rachel could vaguely see a figure sitting on the trunk of a car that was parked in the garage. The woman, who Rachel now assumed was either S or Q, cut the engine to the truck and hopped out, Rachel following suit.

“Sammy, how many times have I told you to stop lounging around on our patients? Mr. Greene probably doesn’t want a dent in the shape of your ass on his trunk,” she called as they walked over, and the boy hastily jumped off the car and ran one hand through his shaggy blonde hair, the other gripping a clipboard. Rachel wondered if they were siblings.

“Sorry, Q. Bad habit.” He caught sight of Rachel and raised an eyebrow. “Who’s this?”

“This is, uh…”

“Rachel.”

“This is Rachel. She was broke down on the side of Lonesome when I came across her. Her ride’s a mess, from what I could tell in the dark.”

“Hi, Rachel. I’m Sam,” he said with a smile and an extended hand, which she shook.

“I’m guessing you’re the S in S and Q?” He barked out a laugh.

“Oh, no. And don’t let her hear you say that, either.” Before Rachel could inquire, the blonde at her side spoke up.

“Speaking of S, where is Lopez?” As if on cue, a loud voice rang out through the shop.

“Quinn! If you stick me with inventory again, I’ll kick your ass all the way to next Tuesday.” A woman strode through a door at the back wall, glaring daggers at Quinn, who chuckled and addressed Sam again. She threw her keys to him and pressed a button on the wall next to her. The second garage door opened.

“Back Rachel’s car in, and don’t fuck up my baby.” Then, she turned to Lopez. “Watch your tone, San, I’m the one signing your checks.”

“Oh, please, Fabray. I sign my own checks. Besides, you love me.” Quinn tensed next to Rachel, jaw tightening when Rachel’s brow shot to her hairline. “Who’s the midget?”

“Santana! Try not to be an asshole for two minutes, please. This is Rachel, her car is a mess.”

“Does she know that we’re closed?”

“I towed her here. Stop being a smartass.” Santana rolled her eyes, leaned against the car that Sam had been sitting on, and began picking at her nails. Rachel turned to Quinn.

“Did she say Fabray, as in Russell Fabray, the Senator?” Santana lifted her head and widened her eyes.

“Oh, shit, Q. Sorry.” She shifted her focus to Rachel. “Yeah, Rach, Quinn’s dad is that evil little cretin. She doesn’t like to talk about him, though.”

“You’re right, I don’t. So can you do me a favor and shut your mouth?” Quinn snapped, and Santana held up her hands in surrender.

“Woah, easy there, tiger. No need to go all HBIC on me.”

“Go finish counting air pumps before I deck you in the face.” Santana scoffed, but retreated back through the doorway she entered through. Quinn relaxed her hand from its curled fist and fixed her gaze on the floor. “Sorry about Santana. She’s kind of a bitch.”

“Heard that!”

“I’m also sorry about… it’s just… my father isn’t really my most favorite subject.” Rachel placed a hand on Quinn’s shoulder, smiling comfortingly.

“It’s alright, Quinn.” The blonde finally looked back up at Rachel, wearing a relieved grin.

“Come on. Let’s go see if Sammy managed to scratch up Frank.” She grabbed Rachel’s hand and led her over to Sam.

“Frank?”

“My truck.” Rachel smiled softly to herself. Sinatra.

They made it over to Sam, who was scribbling on his clipboard.

“What’s the diagnosis, Evans?” Quinn asked. He looked up with a grimace.

“This thing is a mess. The engine gaskets are degraded to nothin’, which is why you’ve got a huge leak, the alternator is faulty, the spark plugs are a nightmare, your radiator is completely useless, brakes are shoddy, plus your battery’s dead. That’s probably why you broke down in the first place. It’s a good thing you did, too, otherwise you wouldn’t have lasted much longer in this piece of shit.” Quinn stood beside Sam to confirm all of his assessments. Rachel observed, and when her eyes made their way to Quinn, she saw a long, jagged scar that ran diagonally from the nape of her neck and wrapped around, ending at her collarbone. The glint of the overhead light had made it visible, and she shuddered at the sight of it, unnerved.

“Miss, I don’t know how you made it from California with this thing, but you’re not getting back on the road until it’s in a passable condition.”

“Agreed. But, Q, can I start on it tomorrow? It’s already almost 9, and you know I need my beauty sleep,” Sam said with a dramatic yawn. Quinn scoffed and shoved him.

“Yeah, whatever. What you need is a haircut.”

“You’re just jealous that my hair is more luscious than yours.” He threaded his fingers through his hair and flipped it dramatically. Quinn rolled her eyes. Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off the harsh white line on Quinn’s neck.

“At least I’m a natural blonde.” Sam placed a hand over his heart and stumbled back.

“Ouch.”

“Whatever. Your roots need a touch-up.”

“She’s right, Trouty!” Santana yelled from the back room. Quinn chuckled to herself. Rachel shifted nervously on her feet.

“Uh, not to be a bother, but could one of you give me a ride to the nearest hotel? I don’t particularly like the idea of walking there at this hour,” she said with a chuckle. Quinn immediately shook her head.

“No, you can stay in my guest room for tonight. I live just above the shop,” she pointed to the ceiling, “so we won’t even have to go anywhere.” Rachel just looked at her in surprise.

“I really don’t want to impose-”

“What Q is trying to say is that there’s not a chance in hell we’d let a pretty lady like you go near the Six. It’s the only motel in town, and it’s full of creeps,” Sam interrupted as he slammed the hood of the car down. Rachel felt her face warm slightly. “You guys can head on up, I’ll close everything down. No need to thank me, Q. But, a bonus would be nice.” Quinn rolled her eyes at his antics, but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face.

“In your dreams, Sammy. You can tell Puckerman that San and I are giving one to whoever stays later, though. Maybe that’ll get him off his lazy ass,” Quinn called as she led Rachel to the staircase that connected the garage to the loft above it. Rachel noticed a slight limp in the blonde’s step.

“If he comes in tomorrow, I will. Sweet dreams, ladies,” Sam said with a wave, which Rachel returned with a smile. When they got up to the loft, Quinn threw her keys on the kitchen counter and kicked off her boots. The place was small, warm. A soft, yellow glow emitted from a lamp next to the couch, which was covered in blankets. A bowl of popcorn sat on the coffee table next to a TV remote. Quinn rushed to pick it up.

“Sorry about the mess. Santana’s a slob, and we weren’t expecting any guests,” she explained with a chuckle.

“She lives here, too?” Rachel asked.

“Technically, yeah. Her name’s on the lease, but she’s getting cozy with someone, so she’s not around much anymore. Only for our movie nights. You can stay in her old room.” Rachel nodded. Quinn showed her to Santana’s bedroom, and Rachel silently cursed herself for not getting her suitcase out of her car. After some rummaging in various cabinets, she received an extra toothbrush and pajamas from Quinn.

“Thank you so much. This is all too sweet, really, fixing my car and letting me stay here. Sorry for accusing you of being a serial killer.” The blonde smiled softly and looked down at her toes.

“It’s no problem. You know what they say, Midwestern hospitality and all that.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s Southern hospitality.”

“Same difference.” Rachel chuckled.

“Good night, Quinn.”

“‘Night, Rachel.” With that, her host retreated into her room and closed the door quietly. Rachel stood in the hall for a bit, smiling like an idiot, before shaking her head slightly and crawling into bed.

 

She jerked awake at three in the morning to a blood-curdling scream.  
Rachel leapt out of bed and scrambled to find some sort of weapon. She didn’t have time to think about why Santana had a baseball bat in her bedroom; she grabbed it and flung the door open, ready to attack.

The hall was empty.

She made her way to Quinn’s room, peered through the cracked-open door, and pushed it open after failing to see anything in the dark. She lowered the bat immediately when her eyes adjusted.

Quinn was sat bolted upright in her bed, tears racing their way down her cheeks, sheets fisted tightly in her hands. Her eyes were shut tightly, and her knuckles were white.

“Quinn?” Rachel said softly, barely a whisper. She balanced the bat against the wall before slowly approaching the blonde, sitting next to her on the bed and wrapping a tentative arm around her shoulders. Quinn flinched at the touch, but didn’t push her away. She choked back a few more sobs before replying.

“I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t mean to wake you. I had a nightmare,” she croaked out, wiping furiously at her eyes to stop the tears. Rachel rubbed soothing circles on her back.

“It’s okay. Don’t apologize. It’s okay.” They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds being an occasional sniffle from Quinn. “Do you want to talk about it?” Quinn shook her head and just leaned into Rachel’s embrace. Rachel nodded, and figured it had something to do with the huge scar on the blonde’s neck. They resumed their silence and Rachel ran her fingers through Quinn’s short, fluffy blonde hair. Minutes, hours, they didn’t know how long they sat there; all Rachel knew was that at a certain point she started to feel drowsy. So she gently pulled Quinn down with her until they were lying on the bed.

“Rachel? What are you doing?” Her voice was small, quiet. It broke Rachel’s heart.

“I’m staying with you for the rest of the night. If I had a nightmare, I wouldn’t want to be alone.” Quinn said nothing for a while, but the corners of her mouth quirked up.

“Thank you.” Rachel nodded and yawned loudly, causing Quinn to laugh softly.

“Get some sleep, Quinn Fabray. You’ve got your work cut out for you in the morning.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

When she woke up for the second time, she was alone in Quinn’s bed. After rubbing her eyes and almost falling back into a deep sleep (the mattress was tempur-pedic), she threw the covers off her body and trudged into the kitchen. There was a box of Lucky Charms on the counter with a sticky note on it.

**Rachel,**

**I’m downstairs working on your car w/ Sammy. Milk is in the fridge.**

**-Q**

Rachel smiled to herself as she read the note, noticing the little heart Quinn drew next to the letter Q, despite the fact that she’s lactose intolerant, so milk was out of the question. Still, she shoved a handful of cereal into her mouth before throwing on her clothes from yesterday.  
She grabbed the note and slid it into her pocket on her way out.

“-get a new tire, this one’s busted. She’s been driving across the country with a nail in her tire,” Sam said to Quinn with a disbelieving look on his face, and it’s the first thing Rachel heard when she reached the last step.

“Wow, I didn’t know a car could have this many problems,” she said with a kind of embarrassed smile as she announced her presence.

“There she is!” Sam walked over and placed a large, sweaty hand on her shoulder and led her over to the workspace. “Q, get up and greet your guest.” There was a loud grinding of plastic wheels against concrete, and Quinn came rolling out from underneath the car. She wiped her forehead with her arm and grinned up at Rachel. She held up a grease-blackened hand, and Sam wordlessly reached down to help her up. When she stood, she wiped her hands on her jean overalls before placing one on the small of her back for support.

“Good morning, Rachel. Did you like the Lucky Charms?” she asked, that uncontained grin still painting her features. Hazel eyes were bright with excitement. Quinn was in her element.

“I had a handful, but I’m afraid my body wouldn’t have agreed with the milk,” Rachel responded, patting her stomach. “Lactose intolerance.” Quinn’s smile lessened slightly and Rachel cursed herself for being the cause of it.

“Are you hungry? I can walk you over to the diner for breakfast, I’m sure Sammy can get S out of the office to help while I’m gone.” Rachel smiled at the thought of breakfast with Quinn. Sam grimaced at Quinn’s suggestion.

“I’d rather work alone. Remember what happened last time I disturbed Santana when she was in the office? I still have a scar from that tire pressure gauge.” Quinn rolled her eyes and took Rachel’s hand. She was already on her way out of the garage when she responded to him.

“Call up Puck and see if he’s alive. We’ll be back.” She waved, and he returned it before switching his focus back to Rachel’s mess of a vehicle.

Within ten minutes they were standing in front of a small restaurant, whose sign read: _**Britt’s!**_ **Burgers and Fries.** The words glowed a soft red, with a yellow border around them. It was reminiscent of a ‘50s diner, and Rachel liked it. A bell jingled when Quinn pushed the door open, and they were immediately greeted by a blonde with luscious legs and bright blue eyes.

“Mornin’, Q! The usual?” the woman asked, head turned over her shoulder to look at them as she wiped down the counter of the bar.

“Two, please. Thanks, Britt,” Quinn replied as she slid into one side of a booth. Rachel took the seat across from her.

“What’s the usual?”

“Chicken and waffles.” Quinn’s broad, lopsided grin was back. Rachel hated to stifle it.

“I’m… I’m a vegetarian.” The blonde’s brow creased for a moment before she responded.

“Look at you with all the dietary restrictions. It’s okay, I’ll just eat your chicken,” she said with a shrug. “You’re not allergic to coffee, right?” Rachel laughed and Quinn brightened even more, if that was possible.

“Definitely not.” Someone approached their table, and Quinn looked up with a smile, expecting Brittany, but her expression turned steely and her body went rigid as soon as the realization hit.

“Well hey there, Lucy Q, I see you finally realized no self respecting woman here wanted you and you settled for a city girl,” the girl snarled. Rachel gripped the side of her booth to control herself. She had dealt with homophobic assholes before, what with her fathers and Kurt, and she wasn’t going to stand by and watch someone berate Quinn, even if she’d only met her twelve hours ago.

“Good morning, Bree. You’re still lovely as ever,” Quinn snapped back. Her right eyebrow was raised, daring the girl to respond. This Quinn was the complete opposite of the one Rachel had been talking to ten seconds ago; she was cold, calculated and hard. The uninvited guest to their table took a glance at Rachel, then proceeded to do a dramatic double take.

“Oh-Oh, my God! You’re that girl from the movies. You’re Rachel Berry.” Rachel released her hold on the booth and flashed a tight smile at Bree.

“Yes, and I would prefer to have my breakfast in peace. If you don’t mind,” she said in a chipper voice, but her expression made Bree gulp audibly. At that moment, Brittany bounced up to their table, subtly pushing Bree out of the way as she set down their food and coffee cups. When the snarky brunette finally left the diner, Brittany released a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry, Quinn. Screw Bree, you’ve got Rachel Berry with you for breakfast. Also, tell San I have what she asked for,” she grinned and patted Rachel’s shoulder before skipping back behind the counter. This time, Quinn’s quizzical eyebrow raise was directed at Rachel, who cleared her throat nervously.

“Uh, well, yeah, I’ve been in a few movies. Broadway is my real job, though,” she said hastily. Not her usual, eloquent self. Quinn’s smile was back, though, so it was okay.

“Wow. I’m kind of embarrassed I didn’t recognize you.” She wore a playful, teasing smile, but the tint of pink on her cheeks suggested there was some truth to her words.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s refreshing to not be recognized. It makes me feel… I don’t know, safer,” Rachel replied. Quinn nodded and reached across the table for Rachel’s chicken. Then she dug in. Rachel raised an eyebrow, impressed; the girl ate like a starved wolf. Quinn caught her expression and laughed a little.

“Me and Sammy haven’t always had the opportunity to sit and enjoy a meal. Eating as much as we can as fast as possible is kind of a habit,” she explained, which only furthered Rachel’s curiosity. If Quinn sensed that, she ignored it. “So, why is movie star Rachel Berry driving a shitty car across the country?” Rachel laughed, accepting the change of subject.

“I’m going to visit my parents in New York. My manager wanted me to fly, or at least hire a driver, but I wanted to have some time by myself. I’m always surrounded by people, everywhere I go. It’s been nice to have some alone time.” Quinn nodded in understanding.

“And the car?”

“The car was also my idea; I wanted to go unnoticed, so I bought the first cheap car I came across.”

“That’s never a good idea,” Quinn chastised between bites of waffle.

“Well, I know that now, obviously.”

“You’d honestly be better off just buying a new one. All the repairs will cost a fortune.”

“Money isn’t a problem for me. Plus, it seems like Sam wants the challenge.” Quinn barked out a laugh.

“There’s only so many cars in Lima. That boy needs some hobbies.” The two talked about Quinn’s business and Rachel’s acting, keeping the conversation comfortably light, and before long they were walking back to S and Q’s.

“So, how long do you think the repairs will take?” Rachel asked as they walked down the uneven, cracked sidewalk. Quinn subtly but purposefully avoided stepping on any of the cracks, and Rachel smiled softly. The blonde was in the process of shaking her hair out and pulling it back into a small bun. It was still unkempt, since some of her hair was too short to make it in with the rest, but Quinn always felt that it was the effort that counted.

“Well, it definitely won’t get done today. I’m afraid you’re stuck with us for a bit,” she said as she finished tying her hair up. Rachel grinned.

“There’s worse company I could be in.”

“You’ll definitely change your mind on that when you meet Puckerman. He’s the definition of bad company.” Rachel chuckled.

“If he’s so awful, why don’t you fire him?” The question was meant to be lighthearted, but when Quinn’s shoulders tensed and she got unnervingly quiet, Rachel knew she had said the wrong thing. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it,” she added quickly, then cringed at her insensitivity.They walked in silence for five minutes until the blonde finally spoke.

“Puck’s an asshole, but he’s been there for me through a lot of shit,” she said softly, lightly tracing the jagged scar on her neck with her fingers. Rachel nodded, now knowing not to push for more information.

“So, is Sam your brother?” she asked, if only to change the subject. Quinn’s lopsided smile returned at the mention of the blonde boy.

“Not by blood. He’s my family, though. I consider him a brother,” she responded softly, eyes trained on the ground. Rachel was bursting at the seams with questions: “Why do you consider him a brother?” “What’s the deal with Puckerman?” “Why do you wake up screaming in the middle of the night?” “Why did that girl in the diner call you Lucy?” “What’s with the limp?” “How did you get that scar?” But she knew that pushing was a bad idea. The answers she got were vague for a reason. Quinn was a never-ending web of mysteries; every time Rachel thought she unwrapped something, a new layer took its place. She was intrigued, and a large part of her was glad her car was such a mess, only because it meant she got to spend more time with the elusive Quinn Fabray.

“He seems like a great guy.”

“Sammy is the best man I’ve ever met. He supports me, you know? When he caught me hooking up with a girl in the shop-” Rachel scoffed, “-I expected him to blow up on me, like my- like other people would. But instead, he grinned, gave me a high five and told me not to defile his desk. Nothing changed between us. He treats me like I’m normal.” Rachel was quiet for a moment, allowing all the new information to sink in. Despite only knowing Quinn for a short time, she could tell that the blonde was guarded and closed off, and hearing her talk about Sam so openly was a change. Sam seemed to be her one saving grace in this rotten world, and Rachel was glad Quinn had him, even if she knew next to nothing about their situation.

“You are normal, Quinn, believe me. It’s this environment you’re in that’s ass-backwards.” Quinn snorted at Rachel’s profanity, and Rachel laughed. “In New York, on Broadway, no one batted an eye when I kissed a woman at the after-party of my first opening night.” Quinn’s eyes widened and she turned to Rachel, grinning.

“Big celebrity Rachel Berry likes girls?” The brunette laughed and elbowed Quinn in jest.

“And she has two dads. Imagine that.” Quinn’s expression turned wistful, almost envious. She sighed.

“I wish everywhere could be like New York.”

“Me too.” Rachel linked her arm with Quinn’s as they neared the shop and smiled inwardly at the rosy blush that crept up the blonde’s cheeks. If anyone had told Rachel a week ago that she’d be kind of crushing on a car mechanic who wore grease stained overalls and lived in Middle of Nowhere, Ohio, she would’ve laughed in their face. Everyone she’d been romantically involved with were all extremely similar to her; musically inclined, aggravatingly driven and culturally educated. Quinn Fabray was the opposite. She was quiet but quick with her words, soft and gentle, frustratingly vague and beautifully damaged. Unlike everyone else, she didn’t want the world to know her story; this fact alone perplexed Rachel, since she’d been in the spotlight since she was born. Quinn was an unopened book that Rachel was dying to read.

“Get over here and hand me that wrench, Mohawk,” Sam’s voice rang out from inside the garage, and Quinn immediately brightened. When they entered the shop, they were greeted with a sweaty Sam bent over the hood of Rachel’s car, and the aforementioned Mohawked man spinning around in a desk chair, laughing gleefully. Rachel couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Sam’s head snapped up at the sound and he grinned as he walked over to them, stopping the spinning chair and sending the other boy toppling to the ground as he came. “What’s up, Q? Rachel? How was Britt’s?”

“Do you even need to ask that, Trouty? It was obviously perfect, as usual,” Santana answered from across the room, clipboard in hand as she surveyed the tool shelves lining the back wall.

“Oh yeah, San, Brittany said to tell you that she has what you asked for.” Santana smirked and Quinn rolled her eyes. “If it’s a weird sex thing, I don’t wanna know.”

“Yeah, you don’t wanna know.”

“Quinn, who’s the babe?” the Mohawk boy asked, leering at Rachel as he approached. Quinn rolled her eyes again. She seemed to do that a lot around her friends.

“Puck, this is Rachel Berry. Rachel, this is Noah Puckerman. Ignore every word that comes out of his mouth.” Puck ignored the jab.

“Rachel Berry? I’ve heard that name before,” Puck mused.

“I’ve been in a few movies. I’m on Broadway, too, but you don’t look much like one for the theater,” Rachel responded, pleased to be talking about her career with someone other than that asshole girl at Britt’s. Sam’s mouth fell open and Noah grinned.

“Q, you bagged a movie star? That’s some serious game!” Puck yelled, holding up his hand for a high five. Rachel was blushing furiously next to Quinn, who ignored his hand.

“First of all, I haven’t ‘bagged’ Rachel, you moron. But, you’re right, I do have game,” she added with a smirk.

“Junior year was proof of that when you got all up on this,” Santana said as she sauntered up to the group, gesturing to her body. Quinn rolled her eyes. Again. Honestly, they had a permanent spot in the back of her head. Rachel felt a twinge of something in her chest that felt suspiciously like jealousy.

“Okay, let’s stop talking about my sex life. How’s the pool cleaning, Puck? Is Finn doing okay?” Quinn asked, a certain softness in her tone at the second question. Puck shrugged.

“It’s steady money ‘cuz it’s summer. Finn’s a little busy since Burt is in the Big Apple visiting his other son, so he’s running the corner store and helping me out.” Quinn nodded. “You know, Q, you could just talk to him.” Her eyes cast down to the floor, and as much as Rachel wanted to unpack Quinn’s baggage, she had learned something much more interesting.

“Wait, did you say Burt, as in Burt Hummel?” Puck eyed her suspiciously.

“Yeah,” he drawled, eyebrow raised. “Why?” Rachel grinned.

“Kurt, his son, is my best friend. And my manager.” Santana gasped dramatically and Puck glanced at Quinn, who had gone rigid like she had in the diner.

“We went to high school with him. Cool guy,” Sam said after clearing his throat. Rachel nodded and smiled, but she could feel the tension in the room. It was palpable.

“You know Lady Hummel? This is crazy,” Santana said with a surprised laugh, and Rachel frowned slightly at the nickname.

“Santana! He’s her friend, don’t be a dickhead,” Quinn hissed. Santana raised her eyebrow and shot her an amused smirk.

“Oh, please, Q, like you didn’t throw slushies-”

“Enough! Everyone get back to work. Now. I don’t pay you to stand around uselessly.” The same cold, hard Quinn from the diner was back, and in full swing. The boys scurried off to work on the car, but Santana sidled right up in front of Quinn, arms crossed, staring her down. Quinn stood protectively in front of Rachel, who was incredibly confused, mirroring Santana’s stance.

“Need I remind you that we are co-owners of this business, Fabray? Watch your mouth,” Santana sneered before plastering on a fake smile that made Rachel shudder. “Top of the pyramid means nothing in the real world.” She patted Quinn on the face, just soft enough to not be considered a slap, and sauntered off. Quinn stared after her, as if trying to shoot lasers from her eyes and take her down, and dropped her arms only when Santana disappeared into the back.

“Uh, what was that? If you don’t mind me asking, of course,” Rachel spoke up, causing Quinn to sigh and turn around to face her.

“Every once in a while, Lopez and I think we’re still in high school,” she responded, like that explained everything. Rachel just smiled and nodded like she understood.

“Right. Well, I have to call my dads and tell them I’ll be a little late to New York. Can I go upstairs to get away from the noise?” she asked. Quinn relaxed out of her tense state and smiled.

“Of course. You can chill up there for a bit, if you want.”

“Thanks, Quinn.” Rachel squeezed her arm before heading up the stairs. When she made it into the loft and closed the door, she immediately dialed Kurt Hummel’s number. He answered after the third ring.

 _“Well, well, well, look who decided to finally call. Have you been taken hostage yet_?”

“Not yet. And hello to you too, Kurt. I have a question for you.”

 _“Should I be worried?_ ” Rachel sighed, honestly not knowing the answer to that question. The interaction she had witnessed downstairs was… confusing, to say the least.

“I’m not sure.”

 _“That’s comforting. Shoot_.”

“Do you know a Quinn Fabray?”

“ _She’s the devil incarnate_ ,” was his immediate answer. Rachel’s heart dropped into her stomach. _“Wait, how do you know that name? Last_

_I heard, she was still in Buttfuck, Ohio.”_

“I’m kind of in her house right now.” There was a loud gasp from the other line, then Kurt immediately started rambling.

“ _Rachel Barbra Berry, you need to get out of there right now, before she ties you up and dumps three gallons of slushie ice on your head and gets her goons to throw you in a dumpster. She does not like theatre kids. Especially the gay ones. And the non-Christian ones. You’re a perfect target. Leave now, and once you’re safe, tell me how the hell you got into that situation. Are you in Lima? Is she holding you for ransom so she can get some fashion advice?”_

“Yes, I’m in Lima, and no, she’s not holding me for ransom. She’s been quite lovely, actually.”

“ _Don’t let her fool you. She’s pure evil.”_ Rachel frowned deeply at this. How could such a kind, gentle woman with a heart of gold be considered evil? At most, she’s seen Quinn be a little stern.

“Can you explain to me what you mean by that?”

“ _Rachel, she was one of my biggest tormenters in high school. She was the head of the cheerleading squad, she ruled the school. Everyone followed her orders, and she had it out for me. Bad. I even transferred schools for a while because of it. She’s a homophobic piece of shit, just like her dad.”_ Rachel was beginning to fit some puzzle pieces together.

“She’s gay, Kurt.” He was silent for a long, long time.

“ _No way. There’s no fucking way_ ,” he said softly. “ _How did you even meet her, let alone get her to admit that_?”

“My car broke down just outside of Lima, and she was driving by and offered to tow me to her Auto Repair shop. She owns it with someone named Santana Lopez. They and two guys named Sam and Puck say they went to school with you.” Kurt scoffed.

“ _You’re surrounded by the she-demon and her minions that made my life hell until senior year. I can’t believe this. Santana is the biggest bitch I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something. Puckerman is just… disgusting. Sam Evans was actually kind to me, when his leash wasn’t being pulled by Quinn Fabray._ ” The way he spat out her name made Rachel shiver. It didn’t sit right with her. She didn’t deserve the hatred she was given, even though she was a bitch in high school.

“What changed senior year?”

“ _Quinn practically dropped off the face of the Earth. I saw her once during the summer, but after that there wasn’t a trace of her. And her parents never filed a missing persons, so she was probably on some grand old vacation._ ”

“Kurt, the girl you’re describing doesn’t sound like the woman I’ve met. She’s… gentle. Quiet. Something happened to change her.”

 _“Why do you care_?” Rachel paused. Why did she care? She’d known Quinn for less than twenty four hours. Why was she so drawn to her?

“I don’t know. I can just tell that she’s fucked up, like, emotionally, and I want to help her. She helped me at night in the middle of nowhere when she didn’t have to. Something about that intrigues me.”

“ _Oh, please, you just think she’s hot.”_ Rachel couldn’t stop her blush. That, too.

“Well, yeah, but it’s more than that. I’ve got butterflies, Kurt,” she admitted softly. It was true. She hadn’t felt like this towards someone for as long as she can remember.

“ _I can’t believe I’m hearing this. My best friend has a crush on Quinn Fabray._ ”

“I’m not twelve, Kurt. I’m interested in her.” She remembered a question, one that she couldn’t ask Quinn. “Why does she have that giant scar on her neck?” He was quiet again.

 _“I don’t know. It must’ve happened after junior year._ ”

“I like this woman, Kurt. She’s intriguing, and I already feel myself caring about her. I think she’s worth getting to know.”

“ _Well, I can respect that, but don’t expect me to be happy about it. But, for what it’s worth, it does sound like she’s changed. She owns a fucking car shop,”_ he chuckled. _“That’s the last thing I’d expect from Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray_.” Rachel cracked a small smile; he was sounding less hostile.

“She’s wonderful at it, too. I’ve never seen someone so happy to be lying under a car covered in sweat and grease.” He laughed at that.

“And get this; she wears jean overalls.”

“ _Holy shit. If you think she’s hot in that, you should see her in that cheerleading uniform. I mean, I’m gay and I hated her, but even I could appreciate that ass_.” The two of them cracked up for a while at the thought of Kurt checking out a girl. _“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’m still not over the fact that she’s gay. Last I saw of her she was with my step-brother. Which was a grand time for me._ ” Rachel raised an eyebrow at that; Quinn was hesitant to talk to Finn, why? There were so many questions, and zero answers.

“She and Santana both. Not together, though,” she quickly clarified. “She hates her dad, so I guess you guys have that in common. You can form the Russell Fabray Hate group.”

“ _And how’s Sam Evans? He’s one of the only popular kids that was ever genuinely cool. He even sat with me at lunch a few times_.”

“He seems like a great guy. Quinn said they’ve ‘been through a lot of shit together,’ and she sees him as a brother. He’s super sweet. And his hair is longer than hers, and I know how you love a man bun.”

“ _Is Fabray rocking a full-on butch look? That, I have to see._ ” Rachel giggled.

“No, she’s got, like, kind of a bob? It doesn’t have that ‘mom’ shape to it, though. It’s cute.”

“ _Please, give me more details on her haircut_ ,” Kurt drawled sarcastically. Rachel scoffed.

“Yeah, whatever. I listen to you go on and on about Blaine every day. It’s time to turn the tables.”

“ _Maybe so. Speaking of Blaine, I’ve gotta go meet him for coffee. Call me later though, okay? Love you._ ”

“Love you, too, Kurt. Go get your man.”

“ _Will do. Bye, Rach._ ” She hung up the phone and stared at the black screen for a moment, trying to digest all the new information she was just given. Was she supposed to tell Quinn that she knew about her old, bitchy persona? It could start a more open conversation. Or it would make her defensive and angry that Rachel was practically investigating her life. It was fifty-fifty. Rachel was confused, still pondering Kurt’s question: why did she care so much? How come, in the span of one day, she cared so much? The feeling scared her. Feeling so much in so little time for a woman she knew next to nothing about. Maybe that’s why she was so adamant about uncovering Quinn’s past; so her feelings wouldn’t seem so daunting and abstract. If she knew Quinn, really knew her, then she could do something about her… interest.

Rachel studied her hands. They were shaking, fidgety. She needed to relax, take her mind off things. The problem was, everything around her was Quinn. The loft was Quinn, the shop was Quinn, the whole town was Quinn. Even if she managed to get out of her own thoughts, she wouldn’t be able to escape the physical reminders, either. She shoved her hands in her pockets and sighed. She was frustrated with herself, because, despite the fear and uncertainty, she still wanted to be here. She didn’t want to escape, she realized as she felt the crumpled sticky note in her pocket.

The box of Lucky Charms was calling her name, so she grabbed it and headed to the couch. Maybe some shitty daytime TV would help clear her head.


	3. Chapter 3

A few Dr. Phil episodes and half a box of Lucky Charms later, she heard the door to the loft creak open and heavy footsteps enter. It was Sam.

He grinned at her and collapsed onto the couch, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. The cereal rested between them, and he shoved a handful of it into his mouth.

“Your car’s a piece of shit, Rachel,” he said between chews.

“I’ve gathered that much.”

“How are you? What have you been doin’ up here while Q and I have been bustin’ our asses?” he teased and she elbowed him lightly.

“I, um, I spoke to Kurt.” His face fell and he swallowed his last bite.

“Oh.” Unlike Quinn, Sam was expressive. He frowned deeply, brows knitted. He turned and looked at her with wide, blue eyes full of emotion. Stray hairs that escaped his bun framed his face.

“He said you were a great guy.” His lips quirked up at that, but soon he was back to pensive thought. She let him take a moment before he spoke. It seemed like he was going to get straight to the point.

“I know what Quinn did in high school was bad. We were all assholes. It’s not my place to tell you why or how, but she was real fucked up back then. Still is. She’s just dealing with it more healthily now, I guess. She’s gone through a lot, physically and emotionally, and she doesn’t like to take help from other people. She bottles it all up. Which isn’t good, because it always comes flooding out in a bad way. Like, with Kurt. She couldn’t admit to herself that she liked girls, so she shoved it down so far, and she took her self hate out on him. It was shitty, but it was how she coped.” Rachel nodded in understanding. And, she really did understand. She knew what Quinn’s father’s values were. Being both Russell Fabray’s daughter and a lesbian was not an option. In high school, Quinn chose her father over herself. It seemed as though that was no longer the case, however.

“Did that have something to do with her father?” she asked, purely to confirm her theory. He nodded after a moment’s hesitation. 

“He’s a dick-wad. A big fuckin’ asshole,” Sam muttered, more to himself than Rachel. “If I ever see him again, he’s gonna have to eat from a tube when I’m done with him.” Rachel smiled despite the gruesome thought. She could see now why Quinn only seemed to open up when she talked about Sam;  _ he  _ was open. He wasn’t afraid to tell anyone exactly how he was feeling, exactly what was going on in his head. Rachel admired Sam Evans; he was selfless and loyal and caring, and he helped Quinn more than he realized.

“I’ve seen a few of his speeches. The man’s a real piece of work,” Rachel commented. Sam scoffed. “I can only imagine how it was to grow up with him in the house.”

“I met Quinn sophomore year, when she was at her worst. Her dad put so much pressure on her to be the perfect conservative daughter. She had to hide behind this Head Bitch In Charge persona, and eventually, it was her biggest line of defense from, like, everyone. It took me a really long time to get past her walls, and even then, she was never truly herself around anyone. Until… this thing happened with her dad, and she was too tired to hide anymore. She’s been through so much, in high school and after. That bitchy blonde cheerleader was never really  _ her,  _ it was who she had to be to survive. I wish Kurt knew that.” Rachel nodded, but his words sent a chill up her spine. To  _ survive.  _ Maybe he was just being dramatic, but something in his tone suggested he wasn’t. Rachel figured she was better off not questioning that.

“Thank you for talking to me, Sam. Explaining a little bit, I mean. It’s weird; I’ve only known Quinn for a day, but I feel strangely… drawn to her, if that makes sense.” Sam smiled.

“Yeah, she’s pretty hot.” Rachel laughed.

“It’s not just that, though. It’s the way she acts. She’s genuinely kind, you know? Like, she found me on the side of the road and is now fixing my car and letting me crash in her apartment.” Sam chuckled and shook his head. 

“She can be a real gentleman when it comes to the ladies. And, by the way, I think you’d be really good for her. You have this, like, happiness about you that she could use. Plus, I was talking to her about you while we worked, and she seemed pretty smitten.” They grinned at each other before Sam stretched and stood up. “I’m gonna make a grilled cheese, you want one?” Rachel nodded enthusiastically and jumped up to follow him into the kitchen. She hopped to sit on the counter, swinging her legs as Sam turned on the stove and got his ingredients. 

“I’m surprised Quinn has anything other than cereal in here,” Rachel commented and Sam hummed his agreement.

“She usually doesn’t, but Santana goes grocery shopping for her sometimes out of pity.” He was quiet for a few moments as he concentrated on cutting a slice of butter and tossing it in the pan. “Santana was a bitch in high school, too. Probably bigger than Quinn.” He shook his head and chuckled. “That girl can demolish someone using only her words. It’s kind of incredible, when you’re not on the receiving end of it, of course.”

“Why does she call you Trouty?” Sam wrinkled his nose.

“Because I have a disproportionately large mouth. She never lets me hear the end of it. She even wrote a song about it in glee club. She has a few creative names for Finn, too, like ‘Frankenteen’ and ‘Jolly Green Giant’ because he’s tall. Like I said, a way with words.” Rachel stifled a laugh with her hand. “She’s a big softie deep down, though. The only person that’s really able to bring out that side of her is Brittany. She absolutely melts around that woman. Also, Quinn a bit. She’s real protective of both of them, in different ways. They were this unstoppable force in high school, they actually called themselves The Unholy Trinity.” Rachel was getting way more information than she bargained for. “Q and San have this weird relationship. I’ve never really understood it.” Rachel frowned slightly at this. If she had to battle Santana for Quinn’s affections, she would definitely lose. “There’s so much intensity between the two of them, and since they’re so close, it gets to be a little much sometimes, and they just freak the fuck out on each other. You saw a little bit of that earlier. They really love each other, though. San is the closest thing to a sister Q has, since… well, yeah. It’s weird when you think about it, because they hooked up in high school, but the only time that’s brought up is to tease Quinn.” 

“You really like to talk about your friends, huh?” Rachel said with a teasing smile, head tilted slightly. Sam blushed and turned his attention to the grilled cheeses.

“I guess so. They’re kinda all I have, it’s hard not to gush about them.” He paused to let out a breath. “My family isn’t here. They moved out of Lima my junior year, but I wanted to stay for my friends and for glee club. I moved with them for a bit, we lived in a motel and I had to strip to get money to help pay for stuff-” Rachel released a small gasp at this, “-and that’s when I realized that I didn’t want to end up in poverty for the rest of my life. I stayed with Finn for the rest of sophomore year and junior year and I worked my ass off at three jobs and still stripped a little because it was good money and I needed it, and then I bought myself a house in cash.” He finished his diatribe with a proud tone. “It’s small and worn down, but it’s mine. And it really came in handy senior year,” he added with a mumble, then his eyes widened like he said something he shouldn’t have. Rachel decided not to question it.

“That’s really admirable, Sam. You should be proud of yourself.” He beamed.

“Yeah, I even have a dog now,” he bragged as he slid a paper plate with a grilled cheese on it over to Rachel. That explained the hair that coated Quinn’s truck. “He’s kinda both me and Quinn’s. She named him Adonis, ‘cause she’s a nerd. He’s a big white retriever.” He jumped up like he remembered something as he chewed his grilled cheese. “Hey! You can meet him! Friday we have our weekly get together at my place, since it’s the biggest and has a backyard and stuff. You should come. I know Quinn would like it.” Rachel grinned the big, genuine smile that the cameras never saw.

“I’d like that. Thank you, Sam.” He waved his hand dismissively as he scarfed down the rest of his sandwich.

“Oh, please. You’re awesome and you listen to me rant. As far as I’m concerned, that means we’re friends.” Rachel’s heart warmed. She didn’t know why, but it felt almost like she was  _ meant  _ to meet these people. Like it should’ve happened a lot sooner, and the Fates got fed up with her and just fucked up her car so Quinn would find it. And she was glad they did. “Plus, you’ve already met everyone except Finn and Mike. Finn’s my man and Mike owns a super cool dance studio in town. He teaches all the kids, it’s super cute, especially when Brittany helps out. Oh, and you should probably know, Britt and Santana are married. Not, like, legally, and they’re only open about it to us. That’s why Santana’s got a room here; to keep people from being suspicious. They wanna be happy, which is hard when so many of the people in this town are shitstains that support Russell,” he growled. “Burt acted as the officiator for their wedding, which was in my backyard. He’s the only cool adult in Lima other than his wife and Mr. Shue.” He shook his head. “Anyways, I’m getting distracted.” Rachel laughed as he threw the paper plate in the trash can.

“It’s alright, I appreciate all the information.”

“At least someone around here likes my big mouth,” he grinned. “I gotta get back down, but thanks for the talk, Rach. I’ll see you later.” He patted her shoulder as he headed towards the door. Before he closed it behind him, he added, “Q should be up for lunch in a bit.”

“Bye, Sam. Thank you for the sandwich,” she replied with a smile and waved as he closed the door. She sighed and slumped against the counter when he left, listening to his retreating footsteps. Sam had dumped a shitload of information on her, and now it was time to process it. 

Quinn Fabray, despite the new insight, was still an enigma.

Sure, she knew about her motivations for the high school bitchiness, but Sam was purposefully vague about many things surrounding her time as a teenager, and said pretty much nothing about after it. She was still in the dark about senior year, the scar, and Puck’s connection to everything. 

Rachel sat, mulling everything over as she munched on her sandwich when she heard footsteps, lighter than Sam’s, getting louder as they neared the door. She smiled; Quinn. When the door creaked open and she turned to greet the new presence, the smile fell from her lips and was replaced with a dropped jaw and flaming cheeks.

Quinn was standing there, beaming, straps of her overalls swinging at her sides as she adorned nothing but a sports bra. She blotted at her face with the tee shirt in her hands before tossing it aside and approaching Rachel.

“Hey, Rachel Berry. How’s Sammy’s cooking?” Quinn asked as she walked into the kitchen. She was covered in grime; it covered her hands, smeared her face and tainted those positively  _ delicious  _ abs. Rachel snapped her mouth shut and smiled nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of her leering.

“Uh, yeah. It’s a good sandwich,” she mumbled, fixing her eyes on her plate. She didn’t miss Quinn’s smirk, though. She allowed her gaze to make its way back to the blonde, who was turned around towards the cabinets, and barely suppressed a gasp.

She was covered in scars.

The biggest ran in a clean line parallel to her spine, thick and white. The rest were jagged and crude, like the one on her neck; her back was a map of horrors. Some were older than others, less deep and severe, but others were glinting harshly in the light. The most damaged area was her lower back; it was almost devoid of creamy, smooth skin, save for the slivers of it between the gruesome slashes. The older ones were more up top, on her shoulder blades. Some of them extended onto her arms and around to her clavicle. 

It was terrifyingly beautiful.

“Quinn,” she breathed, and before she could stop herself, she was out of her seat and her hands were reaching out for the blonde. Quinn turned at the sound of her name, and Rachel halted abruptly.

“Yes?”

“Your-Your back. What happened?” The question was barely a whisper, and Quinn’s gaze landed hard on the floor. She chuckled wryly. 

“A lot.” Rachel shook her head and placed a finger under Quinn’s chin, gently forcing her to meet her eyes. 

“Quinn. What happened?”

“Why do you want to know? I’m just the girl fixing your car.”

“No you’re not.” Quinn’s brow creased and she cast her questioning eyes to Rachel. “I… I consider you my friend, Quinn. I care about my friends, especially when they’ve sustained horrifying injuries. Please tell me.” Quinn cringed at her words, and Rachel wasn’t sure which part caused the reaction. 

“It’s a long story.” The mechanic broke their eye contact and strode towards the couch. Rachel followed without hesitation. Quinn sat with her back straightened, body still with tension. 

“I’ve got time.” The room was quiet for a long time, aside from metal clanging from below. The air was thick with emotion, weighing down Rachel’s shoulders with each passing minute of silence. 

“I’d rather not talk about it right now,” Quinn said softly, gaze focused hard on the coffee table. Rachel nodded and pursed her lips. She had pushed too far. “Wanna watch some TV with me while I eat?” Rachel smiled at Quinn in affirmation, and the blonde mirrored her gesture as she stood up to go to the kitchen. Rachel noticed more marks on her stomach, partially hidden by grease. There were much less of them than on her back, and they looked less deep. Rachel was quickly distracted by Quinn’s toned muscles, though, and for a moment, as she watched them ripple as the blonde stood, she forgot all about the scars. Kurt and Sam were right; Quinn was  _ hot.  _ Rachel didn’t usually like to use that term when talking about women, she found it raunchy for some reason, but when she felt her mouth drain of moisture and her face redden, she couldn’t deny that her thoughts weren’t exactly innocent. Quinn sent her another knowing smirk before sauntering away.

After some clinking and shuffling, she was back, sitting closer to Rachel this time, with a bowl, and a carton of milk in her hands. She shook some Lucky Charms into the bowl, followed by milk.

“You trying to starve me, Rachel Berry?” The girl in question wrinkled her brow in confusion.

“What?”

“My Lucky Charms. They’re almost gone,” Quinn explained with a grin. Quinn rolled her eyes, but embarrassment grew rosy on her cheeks.

“Oh, please. I didn’t eat  _ that  _ much. And I wasn’t alone; Sam is to blame as well.” The blonde chuckled as she dug in.

“That boy and his big mouth.” They sat quietly for a while, watching House Hunters and simply enjoying each other’s presence. Then Quinn stood and went to wash her bowl out in the sink and put the milk away. She disappeared into her room and came out with a clean shirt. When she slipped it on, Rachel couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment.

“I gotta get back to work. Nothing but the best for a Broadway star,” she said with a wink as she drew closer to Rachel. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Quinn, wait.” Quinn froze with her hand on the doorknob, turning to face the brunette. “I’m… I’m sorry for earlier. I’m just a nosy person.” She chuckled nervously, but Quinn just grinned at her.

“It’s okay. But, you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that, Rachel Berry. I’m known to be stubborn.” With that, she turned on her heel and skipped down the steps. Rachel let out an exasperated sigh before flopping her body down on the worn, green couch.

After all this talking, she needed a nap.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y’all this chapter has some of the best shit i’ve ever written so leave a comment and let me know what u think! also my tumblr is saintdyke if you wanna follow me on there

It had been days since Rachel’s talk with Sam. Three of them. She had developed a sort of routine; wake up to a note from Quinn, eat breakfast with her at Britt’s, then either relax in the apartment or watch Quinn (and Sam, sometimes Puck) work. Her second night in Lima, Quinn had timidly entered her room at 2 AM, eyes pleading, and Rachel had wordlessly gotten up and followed the blonde back to her room. Every night since then, she fell asleep with Quinn in her arms. They both slept soundly. And, if anything, she was even more confused than before.

Because, on her fourth day in Lima, she was watching Quinn replace engine gaskets when the blonde’s back seized up and she crumpled to the floor. Sam dropped everything in his hands and rushed to her side.

“Santana! Meds!” he called, and there was a loud crash from the back of the store. He gently picked Quinn up as he searched frantically for the desk chair. It was nowhere to be found, so he balanced her on the desk. She clung to his shoulders, sobs echoing on the walls. Rachel was frozen in place. Santana came running with a bottle of pills in one hand and water in the other. She put them on the desk and shoved Sam out of the way. She placed a pill in Quinn’s open mouth and told her to swallow. Then her body was between Quinn’s legs, her left hand was on the small of her back, massaging lightly, and her right was on her upper back to keep her in place. She pressed her forehead against Quinn’s, breathing her air.

“Quinn, focus on my voice. Focus through the pain. Listen to my voice,” she said, her tone gentle but stern. Quinn released another strangled cry.

“It hurts, San. It hurts so  _ bad. _ ” Her voice was broken and rough and Rachel’s heart broke.

“I know. I know, sweetheart. Breathe with me. In, out. Breathe.” The only sounds in the shop came from Quinn’s ragged gasps and Santana’s strong lungs. After an eternity, Quinn slumped into Santana’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Santana placed a long, lingering kiss on her forehead before gathering her impossibly closer. “It’s okay, Quinn. It’s okay, my love.” Rachel stood frozen still, mouth agape. No one remembered her presence.

“I-I-”

“Shh, don’t try to talk, love. Just relax, breathe.” In her week in Lima, she had never seen Santana be so gentle, so quiet. She had never seen Quinn so unraveled. It was like her soul was stripped bare, for everyone in the room to see. Santana took all of Quinn’s weight against her body and used both hands to massage Quinn’s lower back. Just like the doctor taught her.

Sam’s eyes met Rachel’s and widened.

“Rachel. Hey. Quinn’s just- she’s got some back problems,” he said hurriedly. He looked at her desperately, and she knew he wanted to explain further, but Rachel just nodded in understanding. It wasn’t his place. All she needed to know at the moment was that Quinn was broken, and Santana was picking up the pieces. At the sound of her name, both women turned to look at her. Quinn’s eyes were widened, and Santana’s were soft. Full of love and pain for her best friend.

“Berry, why don’t you help Q upstairs,” Santana commanded, but her voice was so soft they had none of the spice they usually had. Rachel nodded again and her feet moved forward. Santana reluctantly peeled herself from Quinn and allowed Rachel to wrap an arm around her waist and guide her to the stairs. Rachel said nothing. Quinn said nothing. Quinn refused to meet her eyes. Rachel didn’t care.

They trudged up the stairs, Rachel pretty much carrying Quinn, and shuffled to the bedroom. Quinn hissed lightly as she was helped into the bed. Her tears had stopped, but her face was pale. Rachel kissed her forehead before starting out of the room to get a bottle of water for the blonde.

“It was a car accident.” Rachel stopped in her tracks.

“What?”

“A car accident. That’s why I’m so fucked up.” The brunette slowly turned and made her way back to the bed. She crawled beside Quinn, keeping some space, and crossed her legs, waiting patiently.

Quinn closed her eyes.

_ It was eleven at night, and Puck was in the passenger’s seat as Quinn sped down Lonesome Road in Sam’s rusty old pick-up. Driving was therapy for them. They took turns behind the wheel and picking the music. But they always sang together. Sang out their anger, hurt and sadness. Abandonment, loneliness. They were singing about the same thing. _

_ Tonight, Puck chose the music. Heavy metal screamed through the stereo, pounding with frantic drums and fast guitar. Puck was head banging and playing air guitar. Quinn had one hand lazily on the wheel, watching her friend in amusement. _

_ Then an eighteen wheeler barreled towards the driver’s side at light speed. The last thing she heard was a loud, echoing horn barely noticeable over the music, before the impact. _

She heard Rachel Berry gasp. She felt a shaky hand on her leg.

_ She felt her body rip open. Her back was wet, her legs were screaming. She was silent. Her vision was blurry, and all she saw was red stained glass and Puck’s still body beside her before everything went black.  _

Rachel Berry had tears in her eyes. They refused to fall.

_ Quinn was in an ambulance. Everything was white, except for the silhouettes of paramedics. Her back was still wet, and she couldn’t feel her legs. Desperate beeping filled her ears, and everything was dark again. _

She felt Rachel Berry’s hand on her leg, constant and unmoving.

_ She woke up in a hospital bed, in pain. Her parents weren’t there. She couldn’t feel her legs. She was told that the truck had been T-boned, on her side, and it had flipped three hundred and sixty degrees in the air before landing on the ground, on her side. Puck had a concussion, and a broken arm. She had almost been cut in half by the glass of the sunroof. She would never walk again. They had already sewn her back together, and her spinal surgery was the next day, but it was futile, she heard. Her spine was severed, there was no chance of recovery, she heard. Her legs were sliced and broken and bruised, and she would never walk again. _

She felt Rachel Berry squeeze her thigh. She wiggled her toes and flexed her feet. 

_ Sam picked her up out of the car and set her down in the wheelchair. She cried. She couldn’t feel her legs. She would never walk again. _

_ Two months into physical therapy, she could wiggle her toes and flex her feet. _

She felt the pressure of Rachel Berry’s hand on her thigh. She wiggled her toes and flexed her feet. She smiled. 

Rachel was quiet for a long, long time. She didn’t know what to say, which was a first for her. It amazed her that the woman in front of her had been through so much, and was up and walking and running a business. Quinn Fabray was astounding. And less of an enigma, now. She still had questions, though. She would always have questions.

“I… have a question,” Rachel said timidly. Quinn released a teary laugh.

“You always have a question.”

“Can I ask it?”

“Sure.”

“What happened to you is very traumatic.”

“I’m aware.”

“Let me finish, Quinn.”

“Sorry.”

“It was very traumatic, in the car. How do you deal with getting behind the wheel and being surrounded by cars everywhere, every day? If I were in your shoes, I would never be able to do what you do.” Quinn smiled.

“It wasn’t easy. Still isn’t. But, when I was out of that wheelchair, I felt like I could do anything. I didn’t want my accident to define me. So, I learned about cars. Learned everything. I figured if I could take them apart and put them back together again, if I knew all about them, they wouldn’t seem so big and scary. Santana and Sam researched with me, and helped me start driving again. Then San and I opened the shop. Puck still doesn’t drive, though. He rarely ever gets in a car. He only works here because he’s good with tools and wants to be around us. And for the money.” Rachel nodded. It made sense, the logic of it. And it worked wonders.

“You’re very strong, Quinn. Strongest person I’ve ever met.” Quinn shrugged, but still blushed. “Can I ask another question?”

“You might not get an answer.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Is that your question?”

“What? No. Are you doing that just to annoy me?” Quinn gave her a shit-eating grin. Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Ask your question, Rachel Berry.”

“Why… Why weren’t your parents there? At the hospital?” Quinn’s smile vanished and she focused on her hands. She wiggled her toes.

“They aren’t my parents anymore. Not since they found Santana naked in my bed.” Rachel gasped. 

Quinn closed her eyes again. This time, tears fell. 

_ Santana was pressed against Quinn, kissing her softly. Gently. Uncharacteristically. Her skin was warm and comforting. Her lips were smooth and soft. Santana entwined their hands and started to trail kisses down her body, and it was okay because Quinn’s parents weren’t home. They were at church and they would be for another half hour, so it was okay.  _

_ Santana’s lips were on Quinn’s inner thigh when the bedroom door slammed open.  _

_ Russell was silent for a second, as Quinn scrambled away from Santana and tried to cover herself up. Then he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her out of bed. The first two punches were to her face. Then he slammed her against a wall. A picture frame shattered against her back. Russell, Frannie and Judy’s smiling faces fluttered to the floor as she was punched in the stomach, again and again. Her back was wet. _

Rachel Berry grabbed her hand.

_ How dare she partake in such vile perversions? How dare she disgrace the Fabray name?  _

_ Santana tackled Russell to the ground. He shoved her away and straightened his tie.  _

_ They had thirty minutes to pack and get out. _

Rachel Berry squeezed her hand.

_ Santana packed while Quinn cried. Santana helped Quinn down the stairs while Quinn cried. Santana helped her into her car while Quinn cried. Quinn’s back was wet, and she would never stop crying. _

_ Santana’s car stopped. Quinn saw Sam Evans through her swollen and bruised eyes, and she stopped crying. _

“They aren’t my family anymore. Sam is my family, so are Santana and Puck and Brittany. Sam is my brother. He gave me the second room at his house, and we got a dog to keep me company.”

“Adonis.” Quinn smiled softly.

“Adonis is my family, too.” Rachel squeezed her hand and smiled from behind her tears. 

“Your father is a jackass.” Quinn laughed. A loud, boisterous laugh that filled up the room, and Rachel thought it was beautiful. 

“You sound like Santana.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“You decide.” Rachel rolled her eyes and leaned forward to place a lingering kiss on Quinn’s wet cheek. She bit back a smile when she saw Quinn blush. 

“Get some rest, Quinn. I’ll go tell your family that you’re alright.” She was almost at the door when the blonde responded. 

“Rachel?” She turned. 

“Yes?”

“Thanks for making me talk. And for listening.” Rachel grinned at her. 

“I’ve been told I’m rather persistent. You may be stubborn, Quinn Fabray, but not as much as me. Now take a nap. You need to get better for Sam’s get together tomorrow.” Quinn brightened and opened her mouth to speak. “Yes, I’m coming with you. Sweet dreams.” She turned off the light and gingerly closed the door. Then she leaned against the wall and cried, as silently as possible. 

Quinn was strong. She was paralyzed from the waist down, and now she was up and walking. All without support from her parents. Did they even know about the accident? Have they bothered to check in with her after she left? Her mother, at least? In the eyes of the media, Ohio’s Republican Senator Russell Fabray only had one daughter. She shook her head to get herself under control. She needed to be okay. For Quinn. Clearly the blonde didn’t want any pity, and that’s what Rachel’s tears looked like. But they weren’t pity; they were pure awe and admiration for the woman on the other side of the wall. Quinn was astounding. 

After getting herself together, she pushed off the wall and headed downstairs. She was met with the wide, worried eyes of Sam and Santana. 

“She’s okay. She’s taking a nap now,” Rachel explained softly. They both released sighs of relief. “She told me what happened.” Sam and Santana shot each other a look. “About the car accident.” Then, she looked pointedly at Santana, “And her parents.” Santana shuffled nervously on her feet.

“Yeah, that.”

“Yeah.” Rachel kept a hard gaze on Santana, who returned it with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Take it down a notch, short-stack. I’m a married woman. Q and I had fun in high school, and that’s that. She’s all yours.” Rachel blushed a deep red and cast her eyes to the floor. Maybe she was a little jealous of Santana. She chided herself, because that wasn’t what she was supposed to take away from Quinn’s story. It wasn’t a big deal. The big deal was that her father was a hateful, violent man who now had a position of power in the government. 

“I’m sorry. I might have a little crush,” she muttered, and cringed at her word choice. Santana laughed. 

“What are you, twelve?” Sam elbowed her in the ribs again. 

“For what it’s worth, Rach, she likes you, too. She’s just scared because she knows you’ll have to leave once your car is done,” Sam added, a sad expression on his face. Rachel considered bringing up what she’d been thinking about for the past few days, and decided now was as good a time as any. 

“Actually, about that. I was thinking maybe I could stay here a little longer.” Sam grinned and bounced on his heels, and Santana’s lips quirked in betrayal of her stoic expression. “I plan to return to Broadway at some point, and when I do, I can see my dads as much as I want. I’ve been thinking that maybe I can stay here and help out around the shop, learn about cars and stuff. I have no movie deals lined up, since I told my manager I wanted a little break from Hollywood, so I’ve got some free time. If you’ll have me, of course.” Rachel thought for a moment that Sam’s face would split in half from his wide smile.

“Duh, we’ll keep ya. You make Q tolerable,” Santana responded and Sam just ran forward and tackled Rachel in a hug. He lifted her off the ground. 

“This is so exciting! I can teach you all about radiators and engines and-”

“Slow down, Froggy Lips. This is up to Wheels,” Santana interrupted, that smirk still plastered on her face. Sam took a deep breath and set Rachel down. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but she just grinned back at him. 

“While Quinn is resting, I can try to help you out around here. What can I do?” Sam began walking over to the second garage, waving at her to follow. She passed by her car. The hood was closed and collecting dust. 

“This is Finn’s mom’s. We just gotta replace the front two tires, ‘cause they had nails in ‘em. We can do the first one together, then if you’re up for it, you can try the second one on your own. ‘Kay?” Rachel nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration. 

“What if I screw it up?” Sam smiled. 

“I can just start over and do it myself. It’ll be fine.” They crouched down by the driver’s side front tire, and Sam began to explain how to take the tire off the car, but was interrupted by Santana. 

“Yentl! C’mere!” she barked, and Sam gave her a sympathetic smile before waving her off. She grimaced and made her way to Santana, who tossed her the pill bottle. “Before you start fucking up Carole’s ride, put these in Q’s room. She’ll need to take one when she wakes up.” Rachel saluted at her and Santana rolled her eyes as Rachel started up the stairs. 

Rachel glanced at the contents in her hand and the bold letters jumped out at her.  **FABRAY, LUCY QUINN.** The diner made sense now, but raised more questions. She sighed and made her way to Quinn’s room, slowly opening the door and tip-toeing over to the nightstand. Quinn was sleeping soundly, curled into herself and hugging a pillow. Rachel smiled softly. After placing the pills on the nightstand with a bottle of water, she placed a gentle kiss to Quinn’s temple and pulled the covers up a bit. When she realized she was being creepy and watching the blonde sleep, she crept out of the room and made her way back downstairs where Sam was waiting for her with a sparkle in his eyes and a grin on his face. 

 

It was late when Rachel finished with Sam. She had screwed up the second tire by not screwing the lug nuts in correctly, and when Sam tested out the car, the tire fell out of alignment. They had to redo it, but Sam was happy to have extra time in S and Q’s. He said it was his happy place. He said he would close up by himself, and for her to go get some sleep; she’d need to be well rested for tomorrow’s get together.

She trudged up the stairs and fell into bed next to Quinn, who mumbled incoherently and pulled Rachel closer. Rachel smiled as she wrapped her arms around the blonde, and all she could think as she drifted off to sleep was that this was her happy place.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit of a filler but! puck and rachel adventures! also the next chapter will be sam's get together which is gonna be chaotic so stay tuned

Surprisingly, she spent most of her time the next day with Noah Puckerman.

When she woke up, Quinn’s spot on the bed was cold, as usual, and she found Lucky Charms and a note in the kitchen, as usual. After a few handfuls of dry cereal, she skipped down the stairs, excited for breakfast with Quinn. Before she could make it to her favorite blonde, though, Noah called to her from the closest corner of the shop.

“Hey. Jew-babe! I’m takin’ you to Britt’s today.” She swiveled around in confusion as the Mohawked man approached her. She raised an eyebrow at him and he just shrugged. “Little Sylvester over there,” he jerked a thumb at Quinn, who was bent over the hood of a white truck in concentration, “is too busy to go with you, but she still wants you to eat. C’mon.” He held out his arm for her to take and she smiled politely as she grabbed it. She was a little disappointed that she couldn’t spend time with Quinn, but it would be good to get to know Puck a little. “Bye, Q!” he called over his shoulder with a grin. She turned and scowled at him threateningly. 

“You better bring Rachel back in one piece or I’ll shove this wrench up your ass,” she yelled back before grinning at Rachel. “Have fun, Rachel Berry. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” Rachel nodded. They rounded the corner and Quinn was out of sight. 

“So, Berry, I get bored just thinking about how you spend your days here. After Britt’s, I’m gonna show you all the cool shit in Lima, since Fabray is too much of a hermit to do it. Plus, we’re both awesome, hot Jews. We’re gonna run this town until lunchtime.” He grinned, excited about his plan. She smiled back. 

“Well, thank you, Noah. I must say, I’m looking forward to getting to know you a little better.” He grinned at her.

“Ditto. Q never stops talking about you when you’re upstairs. If one of you doesn’t make a move soon, Trouty, Satan and I are just gonna lock you in a room until you confess your undying love for each other.” Rachel laughed and ducked her head, blushing deeply. 

“Trust me, I want to. I’m just… scared of the future. When I inevitably have to leave. I don’t want to start something meaningful if it can’t continue. I don’t want to hurt her like that. Or myself, for that matter,” she explained, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. Puck slung an arm around her shoulders.

“That makes sense, but I think you just gotta live in the moment, though. You’ll regret it if you didn’t take the chance to be with her when you had it. And who knows what’ll happen in the future? Obviously you’re not planning on leaving any time soon, so that at least gives you guys a couple of months.” She smiled softly up at him.

“Thank you, Noah.”

“No problem, dude. When you think it’s time to woman up and go for it, I’m here to help you plan. I know what’ll charm Q’s pants off, trust me. We’ve been bros since high school.” She laughed at the thought of Quinn calling anyone her ‘bro.’ He grinned at her as he opened the door to Britt’s. Brittany’s head popped up at the sound of the bell, and her smile faltered when she saw Rachel with Puck.

“Rach, Puck,” she greeted with a curt nod. Puck smirked.

“What’s up, MIT? Need help getting that stick out of your ass?” Rachel slapped him lightly on the arm in indignation.

“Noah!”

“It’s fine, Rachel. And no, Puck, I have San to help me out with anything involving my ass,” Brittany shot back with a smirk that mirrored Puck’s. His smug expression dropped and he held up his hands in surrender. Rachel could deduce why; Brittany Pierce was usually never harsh with her words. She’d talked to Brittany a lot during her breakfasts with Quinn, since she would stand around and talk with them if the restaurant wasn’t too busy. She was happy and sweet, if a little ditzy at times. The opposite of Santana Lopez.

“Woah there, Dancing Queen, what’d I do to you?”

“Coming here with Rach for breakfast is Q’s thing,” she stated evenly, crossing her arms. “I’m onto you, Puckerman. Don’t try anything, or I’ll tell Lord Tubbington to put a hit out on you for his mob friends.” Rachel was surprised when Puck actually looked a little frightened. Lord Tubbington was Brittany’s cat; it was impossible for him to have mob connections.

“Quinn asked Noah to bring me to breakfast, Brittany. Thanks for looking out for me, though,” Rachel replied with a grateful smile. Brittany grinned back before glaring at Puck again. 

“You and Q, Rach. I’ve known Puck long enough to know when he’s up to something. If he tries anything with Q’s girl, I’ll kick his ass while San slices him with her vicious, vicious words.” Puck looked even more scared now, and Rachel blushed and giggled. “Waffles?” Rachel nodded enthusiastically. When she and Puck slid into a booth, he sighed in relief.

“Protective Britt is scarier than Boobs McGee when she’s angry,” he said with wide eyes. Rachel raised an eyebrow at the nickname.

“Boobs McGee?”

“Santana. She got a boob job before senior year, and when the cheerleading coach found out, she only called her names that had to do with it. We don’t like to let her live it down.” 

“I take it this cheerleading coach was intense?” Puck scoffed before his eyes widened as he looked over her shoulder at the door. 

“Speak of the devil,” he muttered. Rachel turned to see a tall, menacing blonde woman in a red track suit in the doorway. Silence fell over the diner. Brittany’s eyes widened before a big grin split across her face.

“Sue!” she yelled and hopped over the counter to tackle the woman in a hug. Sue patted her back awkwardly.

“Pierce,” she responded gruffly, but her expression betrayed her veil of indifference. “How is Sandbags? Still tinkering around with Q and the Macaulay Culkin stunt-double?” Brittany rolled her eyes fondly and lightly punched Sue in the arm. Judging by the reaction of the others in the diner, Rachel assumed no one else would be able to get away with such an action.

“San is great. She’s been much more nice after I graduated and came back. They wanted me to stay so they could do more tests and stuff, but they were working me too hard and I missed her. Now, I’m just doing what I like, not what I’m good at.” Sue smiled softly for half a second at that.

“And Q?” A glint of something flashed across Sue’s eyes as she asked. “Is she… Is she better?” Brittany nodded.

“Only like once every few weeks now. Plus…” she trailed off and her eyes darted over Rachel. Sue followed her line of sight before she spotted Rachel. Puck cowered down in his side of the booth. The two blondes walked over after Brittany whispered something to Sue.

“Hello, Man-Whore. Impregnated any girls in the last two years?” Puck’s eyes widened even more and he shook his head furiously. Brittany placed a hand on Sue’s shoulder to stop her from saying anything else. “I see. Somehow you’ve managed to keep a perfect track record. Only a matter of time,” she sneered before turning to Rachel. Rachel kept her head held high as Sue sized her up. She held out her hand and smiled.

“Hello, I’m Rachel Berry,” she said. Sue nodded.

“I know,” she replied before shaking Rachel’s hand firmly as she held eye contact. Rachel didn’t cower, which seemed to surprise Sue. “Britt here tells me that you’ve gotten all lovey-dovey with Quinn Fabray. Q may not be a Sylvester by blood, but she’s my kid. Mess with her and you will feel my wrath.”

“I will do no such thing.” Sue nodded. 

“We’ll see about that, Broadway.” She gave Rachel one last once-over and Puck one last glare before turning to sit at the bar. Brittany shot them a sympathetic smile as she followed Sue. When the coach was out of earshot, Puck let out a huge breath he was holding. 

“God damn. She never gets less intimidating,” he muttered. Rachel laughed. A few moments later, Brittany returned with their waffles and a bright expression. Puck immediately dug in, syrup coating his chin. It was moments like this that Rachel was glad she was gay.

“So, what did she mean when she said Quinn is her kid?” Rachel asked as she handed Noah her chicken and cut into the waffle.

“Well, our crash was right before senior year started. After Q hadn’t shown up at school for a week, Sylvester cornered all of us until Sam finally caved, the fuckin’ pussy. After that, she visited Q pretty much every day and dropped off her schoolwork so she could still graduate. The woman is a literal demon, but she has a heart for the Unholy Trinity,” Puck explained with a shrug between loud, smacking bites. Rachel smiled to herself; despite Sue Sylvester’s crassness and, well, Santana-esque nature, she was there for Quinn when her own mother wasn’t.

“That’s… incredible of her, actually.”

“Yeah, I guess it was pretty cool. She always said she thought Quinn was a younger version of herself.” Rachel scoffed.

“I could never picture Quinn acting like that woman.”

“Oh, trust me, in high school, she was worse than Sue. That girl had some serious issues.” He paused to swallow a bite. “Anyway, stuff that waffle down your gullet, Berry. We’re gonna tear shit up.”

 

After Brittany’s and an hour walking around town, they ended up at mini-golf. “Rachel-sized golf,” as Puck had deemed it. And they were about to get kicked out. 

“ _ Noah _ ! Get off of the volcano!” Rachel hissed, eyes darting around frantically in search of an employee that could potentially see them. Puck grinned down at her. He was balanced on one foot atop a plastic volcano with a tunnel at the bottom to put a ball through. 

“Relax, Berry. This is the best way to make the shot.” He extended his body with surprisingly elegant flexibility, one leg high up in the air as he bent down to line up his club. Right when he was about to shoot, he was body-slammed.

“Puckerman! How many times do I have to kick you outta here?” a gruff voice spat as the woman climbed off of Noah and wiped dust off her shirt. Puck was on the ground struggling to catch his breath.

“Told you so,” Rachel muttered.

“Hey, Lauren. Didn’t know you were working today,” Puck coughed as he stumbled back to his feet.

“I work every day, dipshit. I’m the manager. Out. Now,” she growled, pointing at the exit. Puck gave her a Cheshire grin and pecked her on the cheek before sprinting away. After a moment’s hesitation, Rachel was right on his heels. They slowed down when they were a block away.

“You… idiot,” Rachel wheezed, but she was grinning.

“Oh, come on, that was so fun. Until I got tackled, but still. Admit it, this has been your best day since you got here,” Puck replied as they slowed to a walk. She elbowed him lightly.

“Okay, this has been more entertaining than sitting in Quinn’s apartment, I will give you that.” He grinned.

“Speaking of Q, we should probably head back to the shop. She’s probably popping a blood vessel wondering where we are.” Rachel glanced at her watch. It was thirty minutes past noon.

“Yes, that would be wise,” she muttered.

“Oh, please, you’re only agreeing ‘cause you wanna leer at her.” Rachel scoffed in indignation.

“Excuse me!”

“I’m not wrong.”

“Fine, maybe not. But can you blame me?” He laughed.

“No. You’ve got good taste, Berry. I’ll make sure Wheels doesn’t fuck with your heart. That would suck, you’d be all sad and shit.”

“Shouldn’t you be making sure I don’t fuck with her heart?”

“Trouty’s got that one covered. Someone’s gotta look out for you. And, since we’re both hot Jews, we have a special bond.” He slung his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “I’ll question her intentions with my bro.” Rachel laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked the streets of Lima. 

The people here continued to surprise her.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam’s party is finally here! Leave a comment and let me know what you think of this shit so far lmao

Rachel had been spending the better part of an hour rifling through her suitcases in a desperate attempt to find an outfit for Sam’s. The best she could come up with was jeans and a faded NYU tee shirt she stole from her dad. It wasn’t great, but it was better than the sweats she had been wearing all week. Right when she was about to rip her hair out in frustration, Quinn entered Santana’s room.

“Woah. Looks like a tornado hit in here,” she commented, an amused smirk playing on her lips. Rachel rolled her eyes.

“I’m trying to find something presentable to wear. You guys need to know that I don’t always dress like a homeless person.” Quinn chuckled.

“You’re Rachel Berry. You’ll look good in anything you wear. Throw on those jeans and we’ll get going after I change, okay?” Rachel nodded as she tried to hide her pink cheeks. Puck was right; she and Quinn had been flirting for a week, and not being very subtle about it, which must have been very frustrating to witness. It wasn’t that Rachel was scared of abandonment, though. She was scared of falling more than she already had. She couldn’t stay in Lima forever, no matter how much she was wishing she could every minute she spent there. She had grown used to Quinn. Quinn’s notes in the morning, Quinn snatching the chicken off of her waffles, Quinn chasing her around and hugging her while she was covered in grease, Quinn falling asleep in her arms and sleeping soundly through the night. Rachel felt… complete. And it was terrifying.

Right when she slipped the tee shirt over her head, Quinn knocked on the door to see if she was ready. Rachel hurried into her shoes and swung open the door and promptly dropped her jaw.

Quinn Fabray was wearing shorts.

Rachel didn’t normally think that legs were particularly attractive, but now? Now she was a leg woman. Years of cheerleading had definitely paid off, even in spite of the months of paralyzation. Rachel was so distracted by toned, muscular thighs and defined calves that it took her a few moments to register the scars that wrapped around Quinn’s legs in long, white tendrils. Quinn raised an eyebrow and smirked under Rachel’s gaze.

“My eyes are up here, Rachel.” A deep blush reached all the way to the tips of Rachel’s ears.

“Uh, sorry. You just… you have nice legs,” she mumbled, and cringed at her wording. Why did she always have to become an incoherent mess around Quinn Fabray?

“Thanks. Grew ‘em myself. Now, c’mon, we’re already late and Sammy’s probably pissed we aren’t there to supervise Santana.” Quinn grabbed Rachel’s hand and practically carried her down the stairs in excitement. For someone who had been incapacitated in bed yesterday, Quinn was extraordinarily spry. When they reached Quinn’s truck - Frank - the blonde hurried over to open the passenger’s side door for Rachel, who grinned and climbed in. In no time at all, they were rolling down the main street of Lima.

“So, you know everybody except Finn and Mike. They’re cool, though, I promise. I don’t really talk to Finn much anymore, I was kinda dating him when the whole thing went down with my- with Russell. He wasn’t very happy about Santana’s part in it all.” Quinn ran a hand through her hair, eyeing Rachel nervously.

“Well, I can understand his resentment. But, it’s been years, how do you know he’s still holding a grudge? He must know that, despite infidelity, you didn’t deserve what happened to you.” Quinn sighed as she slowly pressed down on the brake to stop at a red light.

“I don’t. Know, I mean. I’m scared to talk to him, I have been since then. He visited me once at Sam’s to see how I was doing, but it was… weird. I haven’t had a conversation with him that wasn’t small talk since before the crash. Even though we have the same friends, we just kinda keep some distance.” Rachel nodded. It was understandable.

“Do you miss him?” The question hung in the air for a while as Quinn rapped her fingers on the steering wheel.

“I… yeah, I do. He was all I had before Sam moved here. I wasn’t, like, myself when I was with him, but when we hung out I felt like I could relax a little. Except when he wanted to make out,” Quinn added with a chuckle. “I guess I’ve just been thinking he doesn’t want to talk to me, so I’ve stayed away.”

“Maybe, but maybe he misses you, too. It might do you some good to just apologize and see where it gets you,” Rachel replied with a smile. Quinn grinned back.

“Thanks for the advice, Rachel Berry. Is there anything you _can’t_ do?”

“Fix cars.” Quinn released that loud laugh that made Rachel’s heart sing.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got me, then.” Quinn’s smile vanished as soon as she said the words and her eyes snapped back to the road. “Uh, we’re here.” She pulled up to a small, one story house at the end of a block. It was partially hidden by trees and bushes, and the grass in the front yard was overgrown. Sam wasn’t much of a gardener. Quinn cut the engine and rushed to open the door for Rachel. They entered the house without knocking.

Sam’s house was small. It had low ceilings and tan carpeting and a big couch and yellow lights and it felt like home.

“Q! Rachel!” Brittany’s cheerful greeting rose above the indistinct chatter from the kitchen and then Rachel was being enveloped in a hug by a tall, blonde dancer.

“Hello, Brittany,” she replied with a smile. Brittany grinned at her and hugged Quinn before looking back at the two men she had run away from to greet them.

“Mikey! Finn! Come meet Rachel!” Brittany’s happiness was infectious, and Rachel found herself grinning in spite of her nerves. She saw Quinn give a weak wave in Finn’s direction before shoving her hands in the pocket of her sweatshirt. Rachel wrapped her hand around the crook of Quinn’s elbow and squeezed in support. Quinn smiled down at her, and Rachel almost forgot where she was until Brittany’s voice snapped her out of her daze. “Rach, this is Mike. He’s, like, the awesomest dancer ever. And this is Finn, San told me you know his brother or something.” Finn was tall and clumsy and had kind eyes. He brightened at the mention of Kurt.

“You know Kurt? That’s so cool!” His brow furrowed for a moment as he thought, and then, “Wait, are you Rachel _Berry_?” Rachel nodded with a shy smile and his grin widened, if that was even possible. “Holy shit! Kurt talks about you all the time. He says you’re cool and talented and stuff.”

“Geez, Hudson, let her get a word in,” Mike said, chuckling and patting Finn on the shoulder. Finn turned red and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s alright, Finn. I have a habit of talking a lot, too.” They shared a smile, but before anyone could speak, Santana’s voice pierced the air.

“Come _on,_ Guppy, shove it in your trap!”

“Santana, there is no way I’m eating that.” Quinn and Rachel shared a look before rushing into the kitchen, with Brittany, Mike and Finn on their heels. Sam was standing in front of the counter, staring fearfully down at an extremely tall sandwich. Puck and Santana were on either side of him, watching expectantly.

“What are you idiots doing to our host?” Quinn asked, eyebrow raised. Puck looked up at her with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Satan and I made a sandwich out of everything in Sam’s pantry. We wanna see if he can fit it in his mouth.” Santana nodded eagerly.

“It’s got chips, salsa, a corndog, some icing, those weird gummy fish you like-”

“Swedish Fish,” Quinn interrupted.

“-yeah, that, a bunch of different meats and some of Adonis’s dinner.” Santana’s smile was positively evil. Sam gulped audibly.

Quinn’s back straightened, she held her head a little higher, and placed her hands on her hips. Rachel barely heard Finn mumble, “Oh, shit.” Puck’s smile vanished, and he began to cower away much like he had in the diner with Sue.

“There is absolutely no chance in Hell I’m going to let this happen. Throw it away.” Quinn’s voice was strong and demanding, and left no room for argument. Santana’s brow shot to her hairline, and Quinn tilted her head ever-so-slightly. It was like watching two people have a telepathic conversation.

“San…” Brittany said, pushing her way past the boys and Rachel to take her place next to Quinn. Santana shifted her gaze to her wife, and her eyes softened by a fraction and her shoulders slumped a little when Brittany shook her head. Santana picked up the plate with the sandwich on it and threw it in the trash, grumbling to herself. Quinn smirked and took a single step towards Santana, who threw her hands up in surrender.

“Uh, what the hell is happening?” Rachel asked, breaking the silence.

“They’re having an Unholy Trinity moment. Don’t even try to understand it, we never have,” Sam replied and gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, we don’t really get their weird, gay trifecta shit, but it came in handy for glee club,” Puck added, “because they can perform perfectly with, like, no practice.” Rachel sent Quinn an amused look; it was hard to picture the blonde on a stage, singing and dancing. Especially since she seemed to be the front-woman of the Unholy Trinity.

“That’s something I _have_ to see,” Rachel responded with a smirk, and Brittany grinned. Quinn placed a hand on the taller blonde’s shoulder.

“Maybe you’ll be blessed with a performance at some point, Rachel Berry, but not tonight. Tonight is for relaxing, not singing. That is, unless you want to put on a show for us.” Rachel considered it for a moment; she hadn’t been keeping up with her vocal exercises recently, and it would be some good practice. But, if she was going to perform for Quinn, she wanted to make sure it was perfect, so she shook her head.

“I’m a little rusty right now. But, after I get some warm ups in, you won’t be able to shut me up.” Quinn’s lopsided grin made its way back, and Rachel’s heart jumped. That smile would never get old. Puck’s loud clap snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Okay, ladies and gents, let’s get this shit started!” he yelled, then grabbed two six-packs of beer from the fridge and made his way to the backyard, boys in tow. When he opened the door, a white blur zoomed into the house.

“There’s my polar bear!” Quinn squealed, much to Rachel’s surprise, as she slowly and carefully sank to her knees. Adonis bounded over happily, before screeching to a halt in front of Quinn. She held her arms out, and the dog gently entered her personal space, nuzzling his head into her shoulder. “Hey, buddy.” She kissed the top of his head before looking up at Rachel, eyes bright. Rachel took that as her cue to join the party on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Santana and Brittany leave towards the living room. When she sat down next to Quinn, the big white dog clambered into both of their laps, his head on Rachel’s. She scratched behind his ears.

“He’s very well mannered,” she noted.

“Yeah, he had to learn to be gentle with me. He’s a rowdy asshole with Sam, though.” Quinn rubbed his belly and smiled fondly. Rachel couldn’t help but do the same. Reluctantly, Quinn nudged him out of their laps and got to her feet, holding out a hand to help Rachel up. “I’m afraid we have to go socialize.”

 

It was two hours later, and the sun was setting as Puck and Rachel played a rather intense game of cornhole against Mike and Brittany in the backyard. Santana was seated in a lawn chair, cheering on her wife and throwing insults at her opponents.

“Come on, babe, fuck them up!” Santana yelled as Brittany shut one eye in attempt to line up her shot. Her tongue poked out of the side of her mouth in her concentration, and she pulled back her arm to throw. The beanbag missed the hole by about an inch.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Puck exclaimed and chest-bumped Rachel, causing her to promptly fall on her ass. Santana howled with laughter at this.

“Ouch.”

“Shit, sorry Rach,” Puck said, clearly struggling to hide his laughter as he held out a hand to help her up. Rachel rolled her eyes but grinned at him. When he picked up a beanbag for his turn, Rachel casted a glance through the window of the house. She saw Sam grinning widely at Quinn, who was blushing furiously. Finn stepped forward and wrapped Quinn up in a hug, which made Rachel’s heart warm. It seemed as though her advice paid off. When Finn backed away, Sam placed his hands on Quinn’s shoulders and she began to speak. Rachel was wishing she could read lips when a beanbag hit her in the side of the head.

“Did you see my shot? It’s your turn, Jew-babe.” Santana was scowling at Rachel and Puck, which meant they were probably winning. Mike and Brittany were huddled together, coming up with a plan of attack. How they thought they could plan for cornhole, Rachel didn’t know.

“Hey guys, me and Q are fixin’ to go get some more cranberry juice. We’ll be back in a bit,” Sam called, his head sticking out from the doorway.

“Send Finnept out here! I needs to give him a hug,” Santana replied and Sam nodded. He was replaced by Finn in the doorway, who lumbered over to Santana and gave her a big bear hug, just managing to not spill his cranberry juice. “You better cheer for Britts or I’ll twist that left manboob of yours,” Santana growled.

Finn grinned at her, then yelled, “Go Rachel! You can make it!” Rachel grinned at him just as Santana pounced.

“What did I just say, Orca?” Brittany rushed away from Mike and pulled her wife off of Finn.

“San! Stop the violence,” she grunted, easily lifting the Latina and depositing her back in her chair. Santana huffed and crossed her arms.

“Fine. Hurry up and miss, Hobbit,” she grumbled. Rachel rolled her eyes and lined up her shot. It was her and Puck’s last beanbag, so she had to make it count. She lined up the shot, and threw the bag before she could second guess herself. It teetered on the edge of the hole before falling in.

“Fuck yeah! You nailed it, Berry!” Puck hollered and picked her up off the ground. He began parading her around the backyard on his shoulder, cheering loudly. Finn laughed and hurried over, and soon Rachel had one leg on each of their shoulders, like she had scored the winning point for a football game. She doubled over with laughter, almost falling to the ground. She hadn’t felt this free in a long time. She looked over at Santana to see her being consoled by Brittany, who was trying not to laugh at her wife’s dramatics. Mike was grinning at the boys and Rachel, snapping pictures of them on his phone.

After Rachel was placed back on the ground, the six of them filtered back into Sam’s living room. Santana and Brittany cozied up on the recliner, Mike got the big beanbag chair and Finn, Rachel and Puck sank into the insanely comfortable couch. Adonis hopped up on it with them, settling on the back cushions behind Rachel. She scratched his ears. She talked with Finn and Puck for a while until Sam and Quinn came back, two jugs of cranberry juice in tow.

“Howdy. We got the goods,” Sam greeted, and Finn leapt off the couch and snatched a jug from Quinn before rushing to the kitchen for a cup. Quinn chuckled before meeting Rachel’s eyes. Sam was smirking at her.

“Hey, Rachel Berry. Come with me, I have a surprise.” Rachel raised an eyebrow at both of the blondes, but Quinn just grinned back and Sam nodded enthusiastically. Rachel pushed herself off the couch and followed Quinn out the door. The sky was the pale blue of dusk, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Quinn opened the passenger door of Frank, and Rachel hopped in, confused. She waited until Quinn started up the truck and began driving to the soft crooning of Sinatra to speak up.

“Quinn, where are we going?” Quinn hummed, and turned on her blinker.

“Told you. It’s a surprise.” Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Can I have a hint?”

“No.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I’ve been told.” Rachel huffed and crossed her arms. Quinn laughed and turned the music up. She then turned onto a familiar road: Lonesome. The same one Rachel had broken down on, and the same one where the crash happened. Rachel’s brow creased even more when Quinn turned onto a dirt path that led to only wheat, wheat and more wheat.

“Quinn? Now I’m thinking you might actually be a serial killer.” Quinn laughed again and maneuvered into a spot that was surrounded by the crops, then turned the music up even more, rolled down the windows and switched the headlights off, but let the truck idle.

“I’m not gonna kill you. Just trust me.” With that, Quinn hopped out of the truck and hurried to help Rachel out, who was still incredibly confused. She followed the blonde to the bed of the truck, and when she unlatched the tailgate, Rachel gasped.

The bed of the truck was filled with blankets and pillows, and Quinn climbed up into the bed and held out her hand to help Rachel up.

“Quinn…”

“This is me making my move,” Quinn said softly. Her face was illuminated by the moonlight and the sparkle of the stars, and Rachel’s breath caught in her throat.

“This… this is a great move,” Rachel whispered in response, barely audible over the sounds of Frank Sinatra. Quinn’s lopsided grin appeared, and Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn’s neck. She heard the blonde’s breath hitch in her throat and she carefully placed her hands on Rachel’s hips. They swayed slowly to My Way, and as the song progressed, they inched closer together. Rachel took a deep breath as she pressed her forehead against Quinn’s and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

“You ask too many questions, Rachel Berry.” Their noses brushed together as Quinn leaned down slowly, propelled by Rachel tugging on her neck.

When their lips finally connected, the rest of the world melted away.

It was just Quinn, Rachel, the stars and Frank Sinatra.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one isn't too long, but it's some Content! comments would be greatly appreciated

Rachel was content. Sinatra wove through the warm summer air as she snuggled further into Quinn’s arms and gazed up at the night sky. She had never seen so many stars before. Hundreds of them, diamonds sprinkled into deep purple paint, blinking and twinkling around the pale moon. Quinn was pointing out constellations to her. 

“And that’s Orion’s Belt.” Rachel hummed in acknowledgement then placed a kiss on Quinn’s neck. “Rachel? I have a question.”

“The tables have turned.” Quinn chuckled. “Ask away.”

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?” Quinn sighed.

“I mean… what do you want to get out of this? Out of… us?” Rachel propped herself up on her elbow to look at Quinn.

“I want to be with you, Quinn. I know this sounds a little forward, but forward is the only way I know how to be. I like to talk, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I had a talk with Noah today, about you and me. About how I’m scared. Terrified, really. Because I’ve only known you for a week, and you already know me better than a lot of my friends. It’s so… easy, to be around you, it’s like I was meant to meet you a long time ago and now we’re just making up for lost time. I told Noah that I was afraid of what the future holds, because I can’t stay in Lima forever, and he told me to live in the moment. And he’s right, I think. Any time with you is better than no time at all. Plus, I don’t plan on leaving any time soon, and Sam has already basically made me his apprentice or something. My point is, being around you makes me happy. And I like being happy.” Quinn released a long breath and closed her eyes before speaking.

“This talking shit isn’t my thing, so just bare with me.” A pause. Quinn opened her eyes and looked up at the stars. “I had a… meager existence, before I met you. I’d work on cars, fight with Santana, get back pains and eat at the diner. And then I saw some shitty car on the side of the road, and then I met you, and now everything feels different. Like, in a good way. You make me feel special.” She shook her head and chuckled. “That sounds stupid. You make me feel… important, I guess. Like, you cared enough to get to know me, and no one’s done that since sophomore year of high school, when my idiot brother Sammy annoyed me into his life. You’re a stubborn little thing, Rachel Berry, more than me. And you care. Hell, you didn’t even freak the fuck out when I woke up screaming that first night. People always run from me, they always leave me, but not you. Not yet, at least. That’s why I’m scared.” Another breath. Sinatra hit a low note. “That’s why I’m so closed off. I didn’t wanna let you in, because there’s always a chance that you’ll leave. When… When I told you about the accident, it was hard. It was really hard, because I don’t talk about that shit with anyone. Or what happened with Russell. But you let me talk, and you listened, and you didn’t pity me. You were there for me. And that means so much, and it makes me feel so much, and it terrifies me. But I’m an idiot, and I like to do the things that scare me.” Rachel raised a brow and smirked.

“You want to do me?” Quinn smacked her arm lightly and turned red.

“Okay, asshole, that’s not what you were supposed to retain from that speech.” Rachel laughed and laced her fingers with Quinn’s.

“I heard you. And I don’t plan on leaving you. I love to talk, but I’ll always listen.” Quinn flashed her trademark lopsided grin.

“Thank you. Now that we’ve got the emotional shit outta the way, let’s make out and I’ll tell you more constellations.” Rachel snorted.

“You sound like Noah.” Quinn wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Ew. Don’t ever say that.”

“Whatever. Carry out your plans, Fabray.” That smile was back, and Rachel would never grow tired of it.

 

Of course, the universe had to balance itself out for Quinn. Friday night had been the best one of her life, and the following Saturday was amazing. Sunday, however, was a different story. Sunday sucked, because Santana was dragging her to the grocery store.

“Q, you need some damn food in your apartment. Rachel is all healthy and shit, she can’t survive off of Britt’s waffles, as tasty as they are.”

“Aww, you’re looking out for her. Admit it, you think she’s awesome.” Santana huffed and Quinn smirked.

“Fine, maybe your little midget isn’t completely unbearable. But if you guys don’t stop making out all over the shop, I’m fixing her car up myself and sending her to New York. Now, grab your keys, we gotta go shopping.” Santana clapped Quinn on the shoulder before jogging off to Frank. Quinn sighed and snatched her keys from the desk and trudged after her friend.

Quinn pushed the cart down the aisles as Santana threw various groceries into it. They worked like a well-oiled machine, in everything they did together. Santana and Quinn were so in tune with each other, they had been since before they could even remember, everything they did looked like a flawless dance. Even when they fought, it was quite a beautiful sight to see. If Brittany wasn’t in the picture (Rachel, too, now), Santana and Quinn would probably be married at this point. But Brittany was Santana’s soulmate, and Quinn was starting to think that maybe she had found hers. 

Santana was around a corner when a voice said, “Quinn?” Quinn stopped in her tracks. Her eyes shot up, and she came face to face with her mother.

Judy was standing stock-still a little ways down the aisle, a water bottle slipping out of her fingers. Quinn couldn’t bring herself to speak. She couldn’t breathe. All she could think about was how much she wished Santana would come back. Judy suddenly sprang into action, rushing forward.

“Oh, Quinnie, what happened to your neck?” Quinn opened her mouth, but no words could come out.

“I don’t think that’s any of your  _ fucking  _ business, Judy,” Santana snarled, stomping around the corner and standing protectively in front of Quinn. Judy took a shocked step back. 

“Hello, Santana,” she greeted tersely after clearing her throat.

“Leave. Now. And stay the hell away from us.” It was said with such finality that Judy actually backed up a few steps. Santana scoffed and took the cart from Quinn. She wrapped an arm protectively around Quinn’s waist. “Let’s go, Q,” she said softly as she turned the cart around.

“I left your father.” Santana and Quinn stopped. Quinn slowly turned back around.

“You what?” she whispered, and Judy visibly choked up when she heard Quinn’s voice. She stepped hesitantly forward.

“I divorced him a few weeks ago. He’s been a violent man since long before… that day, Lucy. And that day, I valued my own life over my child’s. I’ll never forgive myself for it, and I don’t expect you to, either.” She sighed heavily. “I’ve moved back to Lima, to the old house. I’ll stay out of your way, but if you ever want to talk, you know where I am.”  With that, she turned and hurried down the aisle, away from her daughter.

“Wait, Mom!” Quinn called out.

“What the fuck are you doing, Quinn?” Santana hissed. Judy reappeared from around the corner.

“Come with us. I need to talk to you.” Judy nodded her head and silently trailed along behind the two younger women as they went to a check out line and then to their truck. Quinn turned to address her mother when she finished loading the groceries into the back. “Follow us to the shop. It’s only about a two minute drive.” She didn’t wait for a response, just hopped in the driver’s seat of Frank, wincing slightly from the jostling it did on her back, and started the engine. She saw Judy get in her car, a Porsche, in her rearview mirror. 

“Fabray, what the hell is going on with you? Are you forgetting that this is the woman that stood by and let you get beaten half to death and thrown out like garbage?” Santana howled once they got on the road.

“No, I didn’t forget. But what she said about Russell makes sense to me, in a twisted way. I’m not ready to forgive her, but I want to talk. Tell her about the accident and stuff.” Santana’s eyes were wide and her jaw was dropped.

“Since when do you talk about anything, let alone the accident?”

“Since Rachel. She’s gotten good about getting me to, like, open up and shit. And this is my mom. I need to know what the fuck she was thinking that day, and I need her to know that I’m doing just fine without her.” Santana closed her mouth and nodded resolutely. Quinn pulled into the parking lot of the shop and cut the engine. Judy parked a few spaces away. Quinn noticed her staring up at the neon sign when they walked over to greet her.

“ _ S and Q’s.  _ Me and Santana own it. Sam and Puckerman work for us, and it’s good money.” Judy, while shocked at her daughter’s profession, smiled a little.

“That’s wonderful, Quinn.” Quinn nodded dismissively and waved a hand to signal for Santana and her mom to follow her. 

“We can talk up in our loft.” As they all trudged up the stairs, Judy cleared her throat.

“So, you two are still… together, I take it?” Santana snorted as Quinn opened the door.

“Hey, honey, do you need help with the groceries?” Rachel Berry’s voice sing-songed through the doorway before she came into view. She froze and her smile dimmed when she saw that her girlfriend wasn’t alone. “Oh, hello, Santana.”

“Hobbit. This is Quinn’s shithead of a mother,” Santana snarled as she pushed past both blondes and into the apartment. Rachel’s eyes almost popped out of her head.

“Santana, be civil, please. Text Sammy to put all the cold groceries in the fridge downstairs.” Quinn turned to her mother after walking over to Rachel and slipping an arm around her waist. “Mom, this is my girlfriend, Rachel.” Judy merely stared at the short brunette.

“You’re Rachel Berry.  _ The  _ Rachel Berry. I’ve seen many of your plays on Broadway. You’ve got the voice of an angel, dear,” Judy gushed, and Rachel couldn’t help but beam. “You have good taste, Quinnie,” she added softly with a tentative smile. Santana snorted from her place on the couch.

“Q, your mom is obsessed with the chick you’re banging. Isn’t that new?” Quinn, without taking her eyes off of her mother, picked up a dishrag from the counter and threw it in Santana’s direction. It hit her in the back of the head. “Ow, you asshole!”

“Shut the hell up, Lopez. Mom, come sit. We need to talk.” Once everyone was situated (Quinn, Rachel and Santana on the couch, and Judy on a chair next to them), Judy cleared her throat again. Quinn took the floor before she could speak.

“I was in a car accident. A horrific one, with Puck. I was legally dead for twenty minutes.” Judy gasped and a hand flew to her mouth as tears sprang.

“Wh-What?”

“You asked what happened to my neck.” She stood up and took off her shirt. “It did a number on my back, too.” Judy was white as paper as she stood to assess the scars plaguing her daughter’s body. “It happened two months after you kicked me out. Right before senior year. I was paralyzed, in a wheelchair for a long-ass time. My back still fucks up on me every now and then. Oh, and those scars up top, on my shoulder blades? Those are from Russell. His parting gift to me.” Judy traced her hands over the jagged rips in Quinn’s skin, crying silently.

“Paralyzed?” It was a whisper.

“Yeah. She almost got cut in fucking half. You don’t get to cry, Judy.  _ I  _ stayed in the hospital with her when she was comatose.  _ I  _ held her hand when they told her she’d never walk again.  _ I  _ took her to physical therapy while  _ you  _ were parading around the country with Russell Fuckhead Fabray and not even attempting to contact the child you left for dead. Wipe those goddamn tears away, because she doesn’t need your  _ fucking  _ pity.” As Santana spoke, she shoved Quinn’s shirt into her hands and sat her back down on the couch and stood defiantly in front of Judy with her arms crossed.

“Santana…” 

“It’s alright, Lucy. She’s right. I don’t get to cry, I don’t even deserve to be here right now. I was a coward when everything went down. Just now, all these years later, I worked up the courage to end it with your father, and-”

“He’s not my father. Don’t call him that.”

“I’m sorry. With Russell, and I’m still afraid of him. Afraid of the shitstorm that’s undoubtedly coming my way. I didn’t plan on running into you today, Lucy, and I know you don’t need to hear this, but I need to say it.” She released a long breath before sitting down. “I’m proud of you. Proud of this life you’ve built for yourself, and the family you’ve found, in spite of what your- what Russell did, what I did. You’re an amazing young woman, Quinn, and I would like to catch up some more. If you don’t want to, I completely understand, and I will leave you alone. But I’m here, just down the road, if you ever want to talk.” She sighed again and stood. “I’ll get going now.” Just before she opened the door, she turned back. “Santana?” 

“What?”

“Thank you. For being there for her when I wasn’t.” Then she was gone, and all that remained of Judy Fabray was the echo of her footsteps retreating down the stairs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a bit lighter, i wanted some comedic relief from the last chapter lmao. anyways, leave some comments please! it makes me want to keep writing

Quinn was a tornado in the kitchen and Rachel was getting worried. She hadn’t said a word about the Afternoon of Judy since it happened two weeks ago, no matter how much Rachel tried to bring it up. Now, she was whizzing around the kitchen in an attempt to make spaghetti (without the meat, of course).

“Fuck!” Quinn hissed, and the curse was followed by a loud crash.

“What happened?” Rachel asked as she jumped off the barstool and rushed over to her girlfriend’s side.

“I burned my hand on the pot.” More clanking as Quinn attempted to pick up the pot and clean up the boiling water, only causing herself more pain.

“Quinn. Quinn! Stop, just calm down,” Rachel urged, grabbing Quinn’s hands and pulling her away from the mess. Quinn sighed and hung her head low. Rachel heard a small sniffle and she pulled Quinn closer. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Can you please talk to me?” Quinn scoffed quietly.

“About what?”

“You know what. Please, please tell me what’s going on in your head, honey.” The blonde sighed shakily and sank to the floor. She pulled her legs into herself, resting her chin on her knees. Rachel took a seat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. Quinn leaned her head on Rachel’s shoulder.

“I’m just… I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“With what?”

“Everything going on. My mom being back in town and stuff, and wanting to talk, and everything with you is just happening so fast, like… like we’ve been together for two weeks, and we’re already living together, and my feelings are already so… intense, I guess, and all this talking is really draining and emotional and it’s just a lot going on.” Rachel frowned a little and moved to make eye contact with Quinn.

“Do you want me to find somewhere else to stay?” Quinn’s eyes widened and she shook her head quickly.

“What? No! No, Rach, I don’t want that.”

“It’s okay, Quinn, I understand if you do. I’m sure Sam would lend me a room.” Quinn continued shaking her head.

“No, I want you here. I like having you here. I just meant that everything is changing around me, and I haven’t gotten the time to catch up yet. I’m just frazzled. But you’re wonderful, Rachel. You’re helping me more than you know, getting me to talk about all my shit and making me happy and stuff. Trust me, I want you here.” Rachel smiled softly.

“Speaking of talking, I know it’s quite emotionally heavy, but I think we should talk about your mom, and how her presence is affecting you.” Quinn ran a hand through her hair and sighed.

“I just don’t know if I should talk to her, or visit her, or whatever. Santana is a bitch, but she made good points; my mom really fucked up. But I miss her. I have for a long time. Despite Russell, my mom and me were actually pretty close. And having Sue around is great, but she’s not Judy, y’know? It’s just confusing, because I’m really mad at her, but I also love her. It’s hard. I don’t know what to do.” Rachel nodded along, already thinking about how to help.

“Well, I think you should talk to her, hear her out. Maybe I just think that because I’m a forgiving person, but I think she was in a tough situation. Even though what she did was incredibly awful, she was trying to protect herself. Which was selfish and horrible, but she really seems regretful. I think she’s changed, and all she wants is a chance.” A short pause. “Quinn, I know what it’s like to be angry with a mother for leaving; it’s a complicated feeling. My situation isn’t the same as yours, but I can empathize. I met my mother when I was sixteen, and after knowing me for a week, she decided she didn’t want anything to do with me, and proceeded to adopt a child. Rejection stings, especially from a parent. But, if Shelby called me up and wanted to talk, I would talk. Judy really cares about you, and she’s sorry. I think giving her a chance would be a good idea.” Quinn was staring at Rachel in shock. “What?”

“Your mom. I’m so sorry that happened, Rachel.” Rachel shook her head dismissively.

“It’s alright. I’ve come to terms with it, and I don’t dwell on it too much. She doesn’t want to have a relationship, and that’s her loss, because I’m pretty awesome.” Quinn smiled despite the conversation.

“You are really awesome, you know that? You’re the best, actually.” Rachel chuckled, stood up and held out her hand for Quinn to take.

“I think you’re the best. Now, come on, let’s do something fun to take your mind off all this overwhelming stuff.”

They bounded down the stairs and past Sam, who called out, “Where are y’all off to? Hey, Quinn, where are you going?” She grinned back at him as Rachel pulled her towards Frank.

“I’ll let you know when I find out, man!” Rachel hopped into the driver’s seat with an excited grin and turned the truck on. “Rach, where are we going? And you better not crash Frankie, or we will have some serious words.”

“I’m a careful driver, Quinn,” Rachel assured as she pulled onto the paved road. “We’re stopping by Britt’s first, since we haven’t been in over a week and I miss Brittany, then we’re going to an undisclosed location.”

“Disclose the location. I hate surprises.”

“Need I remind you that for our first date you drove me to the middle of nowhere without cluing me in? Suck it up, Fabray, it’s payback time.” Quinn rolled her eyes fondly and watched Rachel with a softness to her eyes as she bounced excitedly in her seat. In no time, they were parked in front of Britt’s and Rachel was jogging around the front of Frank to open the door for Quinn.

“What a gentleman,” Quinn teased and laced her fingers with Rachel’s as they walked towards the diner.

“I strive to be as chivalrous as I can, honey.” The door opened with a jingle from the bell and soon they were greeted with Brittany Pierce’s bright smile.

“Hey, you two! I thought maybe you were dead, since you haven’t come by in so long. San told me you were alive, though, so I didn’t worry too much. The usual?” Quinn licked her lips in anticipation. Before she could agree, though, Rachel spoke up.

“That’s alright, Brittany, we’re actually here to see you and catch up. I also need to ask you a quick question.” Quinn huffed in disappointment at not getting a waffle, but stayed silent. Brittany smiled.

“Okay, you guys can take a seat while I run a few orders, I’ll be right over.” They smiled at the dancer, and Rachel and Quinn slid into their usual booth, and Quinn heaved a sigh of contentment as she relaxed into her seat.

“Feels like home,” she mused as she absentmindedly played with the cracked red vinyl of the seat. Rachel chuckled.

“You’re so dramatic.” Quinn raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend.

“Says _you_.”

“Okay, no need to be hostile.” Quinn released a small laugh and rolled her eyes at Rachel before fixing her face into a neutral expression.

“Tell me where we’re going, Rachel Berry.” The woman just smiled at her.

“No.” Quinn opened her mouth to protest when Brittany slid into the booth next to Rachel, wearing that same happy grin.

“Hey, guys, how’s it goin’?” Brittany greeted cheerfully, and Rachel smiled fondly. The woman’s warmth was an ever-welcoming presence.

“It’s wonderful, Britt,” Rachel replied.

“Oh, I’m sure. I hear the sex is amazing,” Brittany replied, the innocent grin never leaving her face. Rachel choked on the air she was breathing and turned a bright red. She turned to look at Quinn indignantly.

“You divulged details of our sex life?”

“Rachel, I tell the girls everything. Even if I didn’t tell them, they’d know anyway.” Brittany nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, San can always tell when Quinn gets laid. She has some ‘look’ that she gets after. San only knows that because of high school, though, so if she wasn’t around, I wouldn’t know.” Rachel was sputtering, trying to find a response to _that,_ but eventually decided to change the conversation.

“Okay, well, anyways,” she cleared her throat and glared pointedly at Quinn, who just smirked back, “Brittany, will you come with me please, I have a quick question for you.” Brittany nodded easily and stood up. Rachel followed her to the counter.

Quinn managed to stay in her seat, begrudgingly. She hated surprises. But then she saw Brittany light up and bounce excitedly on her feet before launching into an animated speech that had Rachel nodding along in concentration, and maybe she could handle this one. Rachel returned to the booth looking satisfied, and held her hand out for Quinn. They exited the diner with goodbye waves to Brittany, then Rachel was behind the wheel again and focused on the road signs.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I’ve been told.” Quinn huffed and crossed her arms for the millionth time that day, and Rachel couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading in her chest because Quinn was just so _cute,_ among many other things.

Quinn looked out the window, and proceeded to immediately recognize the route Rachel was taking. The route only Brittany took to get to the restaurant. The route Sue Sylvester used to torture the Cheerios. A horde of teenage girls in cheerleading uniforms were running by them, looking ready to die. Sue was standing on the grass next to the sidewalk, donning her megaphone.

“Sloppy babies! You think this is hard? Try climbing Everest with an elderly monkey as your only companion and nothing do drink but your own piss! That’s hard!” Sue screamed into the megaphone, and Rachel cringed. Quinn just laughed. She saw the moment that Sue spotted the blue truck; her eyes soften by just a fraction. Feedback screeched as she put the megaphone to her mouth again. “Hey, Fabray, Off-Brand Streisand! Blow some exhaust fumes at my girls, why don’t you?” Quinn smiled and waved at the woman.

“Hello to you too, Sue!” she laughed as Sue flipped her the bird. Rachel picked up speed to get away from the woman, and Quinn turned to her girlfriend. “I know where we’re going.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?” Quinn smirked.

“Breadstix. Only Britt goes this way, it’s very specific. She goes in two circles and basically drives the perimeter of the town before getting there. Sue uses it for summer training. Nice try, Rachel Berry.” It was Rachel’s turn to huff.

“Forgive me for wanting to plan a nice surprise for my significant other.” Quinn chuckled lightly and placed a hand on Rachel’s leg to soothe her.

“Going to Breadstix is always nice, surprise or not. How’d you find out about this place, anyway?” Rachel smiled as she recalled the memory.

“Noah took me here on our third outing. He said you and Santana and Brittany love it here.” Quinn scoffed. _That_ was an understatement.

“We came here all the time in high school,” Quinn explained as Rachel pulled into the parking lot, “and Britt would always bring me take-out when I was staying at Sam’s. Speaking of Sam, my first date with him was here, actually.” Rachel’s foot slammed on the brake in surprise.

“Your _what_?” she shrieked. Quinn released that loud laugh and Rachel’s heart fluttered.

“I never told you? Sammy and I dated sophomore year. But I felt too bad, knowing I didn’t like him like that, so he was the first person I came out to. He took it well.” Rachel sighed and laughed a little as she eased into a parking spot.

“Sorry, I was just… surprised.”

“That I’ve made out with Trouty Mouth? Yeah, me too, honestly.” They shared a laugh before getting out of Frank and strolling into Breadstix.

“Quinn!” A loud, young feminine voice rang through the air, and soon, a blur of red, black, white and blonde nearly tackled Quinn in a hug. Quinn tensed at first, but then chuckled and wrapped her arms around the girl who, Rachel now noticed was wearing a cheerleading uniform.

“Hey, Kitty. First to get here?” The teenager beamed up at Quinn. She looked like a younger version of Quinn; it was quite startling, actually.

“Always. Just like you. Sue wants me to reserve a bunch of tables for the squad, so we can all carbo-load and then run back to the school. She told me it’s to weed out the weaklings.” Quinn chuckled, less upset at Sue’s antics now that she wasn’t victim to them.

“Sounds about right. Don’t die out there, okay? You’ve got my legacy to protect.” As a reaction to those words, Kitty’s back straightened and her ponytail swung slightly as she held her head higher.

“I won’t disappoint.” She leaned in closer, voice dropping and expression softening. “I did what you asked, by the way. The plan to stop the slushies will be underway right when school starts. You have my word.” Quinn smiled and placed a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder.

“I knew I could count on you, Kitty Wilde. Now, go get those tables; I don’t want you to get crucified.” Kitty grinned, and with one last hug, she zoomed off to yell at the staff and demand half of the tables in the restaurant. During the lunch rush, in true Head Cheerio fashion. Quinn watched, a feeling of pride settling over her. She felt Rachel’s hand caress the small of her back.

“So, who was that?”

“That’s Kitty Wilde. She idolizes me. It was weird at first, but after Sylvester had me mentor her and I got to know her better, I actually think it’s kinda cute. She was ruthless when I first met her, a huge bitch. I taught her that bitchiness isn’t what makes a good Head Cheerio, though; talent and perseverance is. She’s doing good, stopping the bullying at school and stuff.” Rachel now felt that same pride that Quinn was.

“Is it really that bad?” Quinn scoffed.

“Rachel, William McKinley High School is Hell on Earth. The social hierarchy is cemented in place, and if you’re different, you get beat down until you conform. I’m sure Kurt told you all about what happened to him.” Her eyes cast down in shame, and Rachel squeezed her waist.

“He did, but we aren’t here to talk about that. We’re here to eat some food. Come on.” After a quick chat with the hostess, they were seated at a table for two by a window, one of the only tables that wasn’t being guarded by Kitty’s watchful eye.

Quinn ordered spaghetti and meatballs, and Rachel had the house salad. They talked and laughed, and Quinn looked happy and free and relaxed. Rachel Berry had taken the weight of the world off her shoulders for the time being, and Sue Sylvester silently thanked her as she watched them from the doorway.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short, but incredibly important. Make sure to leave comments please, they keep me writing!

They were on the couch, warm and comfortable. Rachel was sprawled out across the length of it, her head in Quinn’s lap, and Quinn sighed happily as she ran her fingers through Rachel’s hair. A Harry Potter movie was on the TV, but they were too busy just basking in each others’ presence to pay attention.

Neither of them had time to register the fast, loud footsteps on the stairs before Santana Lopez barreled into the apartment with a fire in her eyes and a newspaper in her hands.

She stormed over to them, slapped the newspaper on the coffee table in front of Quinn and jabbed her finger at the headline.

“This is the last _fucking_ straw, Quinn. It’s time,” she growled. In big, glaring letters, read: **SENATOR FABRAY VOICES SUPPORT FOR GAY CONVERSION THERAPY BILL AND ANTI-GAY CLASSES IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS.** Rachel rose from her position on Quinn’s lap and watched her girlfriend carefully. “It’s time for everyone to know _exactly_ what kind of a man he really is.” Quinn stood, ran both hand through her hair, closed her eyes and began pacing. Santana moved forward and stopped her in her tracks, hands on her shoulders. “Quinn, I’ve let all these years pass, I’ve let you pretend it didn’t happen and sweep it under the rug, but enough is enough. We can’t let him do this. _You_ have the power to take him down, and only you can use it. Please.” Rachel remained silent. Yes, she was Quinn’s girlfriend, but this was a situation between she and Santana. They were the ones who went through what Russell did, and this was their decision. Quinn released an incredibly shaky breath, then hung her head low.

“Okay,” she whispered. Santana’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“I said okay. But right now, I need to think. Can both of you leave, please?” Rachel stood and moved towards her girlfriend.

“Quinn…”

“Rachel, I adore you, but I need to be alone right now, or I’m gonna lose my mind. Just go downstairs, please.” Rachel pursed her lips, but nodded.

Quinn watched through blurry tears as Santana and Rachel left, the door closing quietly behind them. She waited until she heard the third to last stair creak, then she collapsed in on herself.

Russell Fabray assaulted all of her senses.

Russell’s rough hand yanking her hair.

Russell’s hot breath on her face as he broke her ribs, the stench of whiskey even though he had just returned from church.

Russell throwing her against the wall. The glass slicing into her shoulder blades. Warm blood flowing down her back.

She squeezed her eyelids harder and curled her hands into fists.

Santana’s soft arms around her, wiping away her tears. Santana whispering comforting words and promises of happiness as she packed Quinn’s things. Santana’s hand on her back, trying to stop the blood.

She whimpered when it didn’t stop.

She felt her jaw crack as Russell’s fist connected with her face. His hand around her neck, squeezing, tighter and tighter.

She couldn’t breathe. She grasped for reality, but all she found was the carpeted floor.

Brittany’s smile of sunshine and tight hugs. Sam’s megawatt grin and strong arms and greasy hands. Puck’s dirty jokes and fond smirk.

Russell’s hateful words pierced her ears. How dare she? A disgrace to the Fabray name.

No.

_No._

Her nails dug into the skin of her palms.

Rachel Berry.

Rachel.

Rachel in her arms as she fell asleep, Rachel humming softly as she cooked dinner. Rachel’s melodious laugh at her awful jokes. Rachel’s words, all of them full of love and care, soft and comforting. Rachel’s delicate fingertips on her skin, demanding nothing and giving everything.

She pressed her hands into the carpet and brought herself to her feet. Her legs shook, but they worked. Her nails broke skin. Rachel. She opened her eyes. The world was blurry, but it was there. She relaxed her hands and straightened her back and lifted her chin.

Russell Fabray’s days in office were numbered. Quinn would make sure of it.

  


It was midnight, and they had a plan. It was a crude outline, but it was something. Quinn, Rachel, Santana and Brittany were sprawled out in the living room of the apartment, with pens and papers and a laptop. Lists of names, rough drafts of scripts. It had a long way to go, and they would need help.

“I think I know someone who can help us with all of this,” Rachel declared, putting her pencil down and rubbing her eyes.

“Who?” Santana asked.

“Kurt Hummel,” she responded, eyes on Quinn to gauge her reaction. She tensed, but said nothing. Santana scoffed.

“Porcelain? How can he help?” Quinn threw a crumpled paper at Santana and Rachel rolled her eyes at their antics.

“He has a video camera and an eye for detail. He can make it look good enough that people will take it seriously.” Rachel turned to Quinn. “Would you be okay with him being involved?”

“I don’t deserve his help, but if he’s willing, I’ll take it.” Rachel wanted to argue, to say that Quinn _did_ deserve it, but she was too tired and it was too late to deal with the stubbornness, so she just nodded.

“I’ll call him right now, he’s probably still awake.” She stretched then walked over to the counter to get her phone. Kurt answered on the third ring. He was on speaker.

“ _This better be good, Superstar, I’m with Blaine right now_.” Santana snickered at the nickname and Rachel threw a pillow from the couch at her.

“Hey, Kurt. You’re on speaker.”

“ _Oh, Jesus. Who’s there?_ ”

“Santana, Brittany and Quinn.” The girls chorused their greetings as Rachel moved to sit back down on the floor with them.

“ _Wonderful. Always a pleasure, ladies.”_ His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and Rachel cringed. Quinn was tense. “ _Look, Rach, whatever this is, can it wait for the morning?”_

“Rachel, this isn’t a good idea. He won’t help us,” Quinn said softly. Rachel shook her head.

“This can’t wait.”

“ _Well, spit it out.”_ He was irritated.

“Okay, Porcelain, tone down the shitty attitude. Do you want to be bitter about high school or do you want to help us destroy Russell Fabray’s career?” The line was silent for a moment, then Kurt cleared his throat.

“ _Hello, Santana. You’re a sweetheart, as usual. Care to elaborate?”_ Brittany scooted forward, closer to her wife.

“Hi Kurt! Sorry about San, she’s just in a bad mood because she hasn’t gotten any of my sweet lady love tonight,” she said, and Santana lightly shoved Brittany on the shoulder and Kurt coughed loudly. Quinn was rolling on the floor laughing.

“ _Hi, Brittany. So, let me get something straight, all three members of the Unholy Trinity are raging homos?”_ Brittany giggled and Santana rolled her eyes. Quinn was still gasping for air on the floor.

“Yeah! We were all in denial in high school, especially Quinn. We’re sorry about all of that stuff, by the way.” Quinn’s laughter died out and she sat up at attention. Kurt sighed.

“ _Let’s just keep the past in the past, ladies. Now, what’s this about taking down Senator Fuckface?”_ Santana snorted.

“Nice one.”

“ _Thank you. What dirt do you have on him?”_ All eyes in the room turned to Quinn. She closed her eyes.

“Uh, well, right after junior year, he walked in on me and Santana in bed together, then he beat me half to death and threw me out of the house.” Kurt was quiet for a long, long time. Rachel thought she heard a sniffle.

 _“Fuck, Quinn… I’m so sorry,”_ Kurt said quietly, his voice broken. He sniffled, and Rachel could practically see him shaking his head to gather himself. “ _If I didn’t hate that bitch before, I definitely do now. What do you need from me?”_ Santana high fived Brittany then pulled her into a kiss.

“I’m gonna need you to come to Lima with your camera and mics and other equipment. We’re going to film an expose of sorts.”

“ _Done. I’ll bring everything I need to edit it, too. If I’m gonna come back to that damn town, this thing is gonna be a masterpiece.”_

“Thank you so much, Kurt. I know I treated you like shit, and I don’t deserve your help, so I appreciate this a lot,” Quinn replied, her voice soft but even.

“ _I understand why you were the way you were in high school now, Quinn. It doesn’t make it okay, but I understand. You had to deal with a lot of shit, and I just got caught in the crossfire. I understand, and I forgive you.”_ Rachel reached out and placed a hand on Quinn’s thigh when she saw the tears brimming around her eyes.

“You’re an angel, Kurt Hummel,” Rachel praised, a grin on her face.

“ _I know. I’ll catch the first plane to Ohio I can find, and I’ll call you when I get there. Bye, lesbians. Get some sleep.”_ The girls said their goodbyes and Kurt hung up the phone.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Santana cheered and wrapped her arms around a grinning Brittany. They all looked to Quinn, who slowly cracked a smile.

“I think this might actually work, guys.” Rachel pulled Quinn close and placed a kiss to her temple.

“This is definitely going to work. Let’s get some sleep, we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.” Santana and Brittany retreated into the guest room, and Quinn and Rachel went to theirs. Rachel smiled softly at the thought; _their_ room.

When Quinn left the bathroom and climbed into bed, she took Rachel’s heart with her.

They fell asleep tangled together, warm and comfortable, and Russell Fabray had no idea what was about to hit him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is fun, for the most part. Towards the end, there's talk of a suicide attempt, so this is just a warning for that. Once again, comments are greatly appreciated, they keep me writing!

Everyone was exhausted. It had been three days since the decision to take down Russell was made, and they were all working non-stop on the plan. Kurt still wasn’t in Lima; the weather in New York was working against them, and all of his flights had been cancelled. So, while waiting for him to arrive, the girls had gone about getting anything and everything ready. Quinn told Sam about the plan the morning after they started working, and he immediately pitched his own ideas. Most of them had already been thought of. They needed to gather up the people that would talk in the video, those who were there for the aftermath of the attack, and gather they did. Sam needed no convincing; he would talk about how Quinn lived with him after it happened, and the shifty things he’d noticed about Russell before. Recruiting Santana’s mom, Maria, who patched Quinn up and helped rehabilitate her ribs, took a little longer due to her lengthy shifts at the hospital. But, she was on board; she had seen the injuries to Quinn’s back, ribs and face, and it made her sick. She urged Quinn to go to the police or at least the hospital, but she refused. Maria took pictures of the injuries and kept them just in case Quinn ever wanted to get justice. They would come in handy. Santana would be in it too, of course, and she was sort of the reason it happened. Her part, as well as Quinn’s, was going to be difficult. Rachel didn’t really know how good Santana was with emotionally heavy stuff, but even so, reliving something like this was going to take a toll. It was that thought that kept both Santana and Quinn stressed and on edge. 

That, and the matter of getting Judy Fabray involved. 

It had been a while since the Afternoon of Judy, but Quinn was still sensitive to the subject. It was going to be hard enough to just talk to Judy; getting her on the video would was a whole new level. They had to try, though. Judy was in the house, and witnessed Russell’s behavior after Quinn had been thrown out. Additional exposing of his heinousness was only going to help their case. 

Quinn and Rachel had just gotten out of a breakfast meeting with Sue Sylvester, and Quinn looked like shit. She was beautiful, as always, but she looked like she hadn’t slept or eaten in 4 days, and Rachel was pretty sure that was true. This process was taxing, physically and emotionally, and all she wanted to do was cheer Quinn up and let her know that everything would be okay. To do that, she would need help, and she knew just where to get it. 

“Rach, do you want to go upstairs and help me write up some stuff I could say?” Quinn asked as they pulled into the parking lot. Rachel smiled at her as they got out of the truck and approached the shop’s entrance. 

“I’ll be up in a second, I just need to talk to Sam for a quick minute.” Quinn nodded and kissed her forehead before turning and going up to the apartment. Rachel sighed and made her way to the break room in the shop; sure enough, Sam was sitting there eating a banana. She plopped down next to him on the dirty old couch and blew out a long breath. 

“Hey, Berry, what’s up?”

“The ceiling,” she smiled, and he rolled his eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” She sighed. “All of this Russell stuff is really draining Quinn. I want to help her relax, feel better, but I don’t have any ideas.” She turned and looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “Got anything for me?” He was already grinning. 

“I know the perfect thing.”

 

Sam drove Rachel to the bowling alley, since Quinn decided the best plan was to go straight there from lunch with Santana and Brittany. 

“So, we’re gonna pick up Puck and Finn, and it’s gonna be us against the girls,” Sam explained as he pulled out of the parking lot. Rachel’s brow furrowed. 

“Why can’t I be on Quinn’s team?” Sam looked at her, his face suddenly very serious. 

“You’ll mess up their flow.” Rachel laughed, but the sound died out when she realized he wasn’t kidding. 

“What?”

“Those three are very intense about their bowling. Any competitive thing, really. But mostly bowling. They have a record for most strikes ever in a game at the alley. They beat our asses all the time, so we need all the help we can get.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be much help.”

“Yeah, I’m not getting my hopes up,” he teased with a grin, and she shoved his shoulder in indignation. “We have no chance of winning. Brittany alone could beat us, but when you add Santana and Quinn… no use even trying. I really want to understand how in the hell they know each other so well, but at this point I’ve just accepted that I never will.” He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. Rachel knew what he was talking about. She’d witnessed it many times over the last few days. The way Brittany and Quinn could make Santana melt. The way Santana and Brittany could make Quinn smile. The way Santana and Quinn could make Brittany feel understood. They were all a part of each other, each had a piece of another’s heart. 

It kind of terrified Rachel, if she was being honest. 

She couldn’t help the jealousy towards Santana; the main topic of discussion for the past week had been Quinn’s relationship with her. The sex part was enough to make her feel jealous, but the fact that they were so  _ close _ , in every way, scared Rachel. She also felt a pang of it towards Brittany. Brittany had a way of making Quinn just  _ light  _ up, completely and utterly. The only other time she’d ever seen that expression on her girlfriend was when she caused it. She knew she was being stupid; Santana was a married woman, and so was Brittany. They were married to each  _ other,  _ for God’s sake. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more between the three of them, something she didn’t know. 

She shook her head to break out of her thoughts as Sam pulled into the parking lot of  **Noah’s Ark Pool Cleaning** . He honked his horn three times, and in seconds, Puck and Finn were bounding out of the store and racing to the car. 

“Hey, Berrylicious, gonna score us some points today?” Puck asked as he hopped into the seat behind her, ruffling her hair. Finn clambered in on the other side and greeted her with a grin. 

“I’m certainly going to try, boys.”

Next thing she knew, Rachel was sitting between Finn and Sam at the bowling alley, watching Puck take his turn. Across from them, Santana, Brittany and Quinn were huddled together, probably coming up with ways to massacre the opposing team. Puck groaned and threw his head back in frustration when, just like Finn’s, his ball when straight to the gutter.

“Need some bumpers, Man-Whore?” Santana snickered, and Quinn tried to hide her laughter.

“Shut up, Lopez.” She grinned at him as Quinn stood up.

“Move your ass, Puckerman. Let me show you how it’s done.” He plopped down on the bench next to Finn, grumbling. Quinn moved gracefully as she picked up her pink 6-pound ball and strutted over to the lane. No one dared to tease her for the ball; they all knew it was because of her back. If she didn’t have to worry about having a muscle spasm, she’d be destroying them all with a 16-pounder, but the movements and torquing involved in bowling were a little strenuous, and it was better safe than sorry. Quinn planted her feet, and in one swift movement, sent the ball hurling down the center of the lane. Not bothering to watch it go, she turned on her heel and sauntered back to Brittany and Santana. With a smug look, she held her hand out, and Santana slapped it right as the ball collided with the pins. A strike. Again. Brittany, never without enthusiasm, squealed and picked Quinn up, twirling her around before setting her back down. Quinn’s laugh made Rachel’s heart hurt it was so beautiful. Her head was thrown back, her eyes were closed and she was happy, and nothing else mattered. 

Well, nothing else mattered until Sam was shoving her off the bench, saying that it was her turn and she better not screw it up.

Santana was smirking at her smugly, and Rachel wanted nothing more than to wipe the look off her face. And she was going to. Unbeknownst to all present company, she was a fantastic bowler. Her dads and Kurt frequented the alley near her childhood home, and she could wipe the floor with them. The Unholy Trinity was proving to be a challenge, but Rachel was never one to back down. She loved Santana and enjoyed her company for the most part, but sometimes, the woman reminded her of her high school bullies. This was an opportunity to take her down a peg, and Rachel wasn’t going to miss out on that. So, she straightened her posture, walked confidently over to the rack of bowling balls, and easily lifted a 12-pounder. This earned eyebrow raises from everyone, including her girlfriend.

“Sure you can handle that, short-stack?” Santana asked. Rachel smiled her paparazzi smile. It was hauntingly fake, and it made Santana hesitate.

“Don’t worry about me, Santana. I’ll be just fine.” With a flip of her hair, she stepped to the lane. She bent into position, cocked her arm back, then threw the ball with everything she had. It spun towards the pins at light speed, and after a blur of activity, every pin was toppled over. She turned to see everyone staring at her, open-mouthed. She sauntered over to Quinn, placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned down until her lips were brushing against the blonde’s ear.

“This shouldn’t be surprising to you, honey. You know I have very strong forearms.” She placed a lingering kiss on Quinn’s neck behind her ear before pulling back wearing a smirk. With a wink, she turned and made her way back to the boys, who were all cheering and jumping.

“Fuck yeah, Berry, that was awesome!” Puck hollered, earning several glares from other patrons. If he noticed, he didn’t care. She high fived Finn and Sam and snuck a glance at her girlfriend, who was staring back at her and blushing furiously. Santana was looking between them, a knowing look on her face. Rachel didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Santana knew exactly what Quinn looked like when she was hot and bothered, but she didn’t want to open that can of worms right now. Tonight was about having fun and letting loose, not her stupid jealousy. 

“Rachel, where the hell did you get that good?” Sam asked as he pondered over which ball to use. 

“My dads take me bowling all the time; they have ever since I was a kid. It’s sort of a tradition that I smoke them every time.” Sam laughed as he chose a 16-pounder. 

“Well, we’re gonna need that energy. Santana looks like she’s about to commit homicide. She’s gonna bring her A game.” He gave her one last high five before taking his turn. He got a spare, and it was better than nothing. Then it was Brittany’s turn, and she skipped over and plucked the same ball that Sam used, continued to the lane, spun for dramatic effect and sent the ball flying down the lane. No hesitation, no strategy. Rachel didn’t think she even looked where she was throwing. She got a strike. Santana cheered and kissed her wife and flipped off the opposing team. Sam sighed in defeat. But Quinn was grinning, that lovely, lopsided smile, and that’s all that mattered. As long as they were in this building, they were away from reality. 

They loitered in the bowling alley for as long as they could after the Unholy Trinity won (of course), eating nachos and drinking soda and arguing about the ethics involved in Santana’s strategies.

“You can’t shove someone when they’re about to take their shot!” Puck argued around a mouthful of cheesy chips.

“Oh, yeah? Show me in the rule book, Puckster,” Santana shot back, smirking. She was sitting with her arm around Brittany, who was humming to herself and folding origami shapes into napkins. Quinn was between Sam and Santana with Rachel bridal style in her lap, and she couldn’t wipe the dopey smile off her face. She rested her chin on Rachel’s shoulder and pulled her closer, sighing in contentment. She watched as a smirk began to dance across Rachel’s lips, then she propped her legs up on Santana’s lap. The Latina turned and scowled at her.

“What are you doing, Dwarf?”

“Just getting comfortable,” Rachel replied with a grin. Santana couldn’t help the small smile that formed on her face, but she still pushed Rachel’s legs away.

“Control your girl, Q. I think she has a crush on me.” Quinn scoffed.

“Not a chance, Jugs. Rachel tends to lean towards women with souls.” Rachel giggled and planted a kiss on Quinn’s cheek. Brittany frowned.

“San has a soul. Sue said we all have them on our feet, remember?” Quinn laughed lightly and gazed at Brittany with a softness that nearly brought Rachel to tears.

“I mean a  _ soul,  _ B. In here,” she replied, pointing to her heart. Brittany nodded in understanding.

“She has one of those, too.” She leaned over Santana, close to Rachel, as if to tell her a secret. “She’s super mushy, she just doesn’t want anyone to know it. Q used to be like that, too, but then you got here and now she’s mushy all the time.” Santana rolled her eyes but a fond look spread across her features.

“Britt, you’re right about Q. I don’t think she’s thrown one good insult in a whole month.” Quinn smirked almost evilly.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Do you want it to be?” Rachel could practically see the alarms going off in Sam’s head as he turned to the girls.

“Okay, okay, no. Stop it, guys. We do  _ not  _ want a repeat of the hallway fight.” 

“This is all in good fun, Salamander. We aren’t gonna start throwing hands.” Sam shook his head.

“When it comes to you two, it’s either a fist fight or hate sex.” Rachel scowled at that. It made her wonder just  _ how  _ many times Quinn and Santana had hooked up. 

To rid her mind of that thought, she asked, “What was the hallway fight?” Puck guffawed and slid his chair over to right in front of Rachel.

“Well, my Hot Little Jewish American Princess, let me tell you the tale.” Quinn glared at him for the nickname, so he put his hands up in surrender, but continued. “Quinn here got kicked off the Cheerios sophomore year for… this thing that happened, so junior year, after Sandbags got her boob job, Q marched right into Sylvester’s office and told her about it. She got reinstated as head Cheerio, and Santana got demoted to the bottom of the pyramid. She wasn’t happy about that, so they got in a whole-ass wrestling match in the middle of the hallway. It was totally hot.” Quinn rolled her eyes, but Brittany nodded in agreement. Rachel, although amused by the story, gave Quinn a look that said,  _ I’m going to question you about ‘this thing that happened’ when we get home.  _

“It really was,” Brittany said, and Finn and Sam voiced their agreements.

“What was it that Q yelled when Shue was holding her back?” Sam asked, and Finn grinned.

“Oh, it was, ‘Tighten up your pony before you get to class!’” he imitated with his best Quinn impression. “Totally badass.”

“If we all keep talking about this, Rachel is gonna think we peaked in high school. Another game?” Rachel and the boys groaned, and Santana and Brittany cheered. Quinn stood up, holding Rachel in her arms, and spun her around before placing her on her feet. “It’s on, Berry. Let’s see if you can do better this time.”

 

Once she was snuggled up in Quinn’s arms, and Santana and Brittany were preoccupied in the guest bedroom, Rachel knew she had to bring it up. The steady beat of Quinn’s heart under her ear gave her the courage.

“Hey, Quinn?’

“Hmm?” was the response, as long, delicate fingers wove through dark hair.

“What did Sam mean when he said you and Santana have hate sex?” Quinn coughed loudly in surprise.

“Oh,” she chuckled nervously, “that’s kinda how our little fling in high school started. We were screaming at each other about some stupid shit and then she just kinda jumped me. Why do you ask?’

“It just made me wonder how many times you two hooked up. How long was the little fling, anyway?” Rachel asked, trying to sound as casual and nonchalant as possible. She didn’t think it was working.

“Well, it started just a few weeks before the whole Russell thing.” Rachel turned her head to look up at Quinn.

“So, nothing happened after the Russell thing? That’s what ended it?” Quinn shifted uncomfortably and refused to meet Rachel’s eyes. “Quinn?” Her name was said softly, gently. Rachel hoped it made her feel more at ease.

“Well, something happened after that, but we haven’t told anyone about it, it’s kinda personal. Not even Sammy.” She still didn’t look Rachel in the eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay, I want to.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “After I got kicked out, I felt… worthless and unloved. I felt like I  _ deserved  _ the pain I was in.” Rachel’s grip around Quinn’s waist tightened. “And Britt and San… Brittany likes to say they ‘showed me how much’ they love me.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

_ “Jesus,  _ Quinn!” Quinn’s body tensed, and Rachel knew she gave the wrong reaction. Quinn was on the defensive now.

“Rachel, they were there for me, and I needed them. I needed what happened, and I shouldn’t have to feel guilty for it.” Her eyes were open now, and they were boring into Rachel’s as she scowled deeply.

“I know. I know that, honey. I’m just surprised, is all. I wasn’t expecting that.” Quinn’s face softened as Rachel sighed. “And, fine, maybe… maybe I’m a little jealous.”

“Rach, what happened between the three of us, it’s over. It’s been over for a long time, and it’s gonna stay over. Even if I  _ wanted  _ to, they only have eyes for each other.” She nudged Rachel’s chin with her pointer finger, tilting her head up for eye contact. “And I only have eyes for you.” Rachel couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I’ve never doubted that. Your connection with them just kind of freaked me out at first, I guess. It’s so intense.” Quinn chuckled at that.

“That’s because we’ve known each other since preschool. We learned how to walk and talk together. We’ve been inseparable for as long as I can remember.” Rachel kissed Quinn’s jaw to tell her she understood before snuggling back into her. She needed to hear Quinn’s heartbeat for the next part.

“I know what that feels like.”

“A threesome?” Rachel could hear Quinn’s childish grin.

“No, you perv,” she slapped Quinn’s arm before looping it back around her waist, “I… I know what it’s like to feel worthless and unloved.” Quinn pulled her closer; she was listening. “In high school, I was bullied. Severely. Countless times, I was told to kill myself, to get sterilized. To just die already so I would stop annoying everyone by being alive.” A shaky breath. “I even tried to do as I was told.” She heard Quinn’s heart stutter in her chest. “At four in the morning one Saturday night, my junior year, I drove to the Manhattan Bridge. I climbed over the edge, and looked down at the water. It looked calm, peaceful. It would swallow me whole, take away my pain. That’s all I wanted; I wanted to just stop  _ hurting.  _ I had no one. No friends. My fathers loved me, but the schedules of lawyers and doctors were demanding, and I was always alone. I had one foot off the ledge, I was shifting my weight, when a voice pleaded for me to stay. He told me that whatever I was going through, it would get better. He told me not to let it win.” She looked up and met Quinn’s watery eyes. “It was Kurt. He helped me over the railing, and he walked with me to a twenty-four hour McDonald’s, and we got coffee and talked until sunrise. He saved my life, and he told me the words I live by to this day. Do  _ not  _ let them win.” She laughed, and smiled through her tears. “And I didn’t. I didn’t let them win. I’m alive, I’ve got multiple Tony’s under my belt and I’m in the arms of the woman I love. They lost, and I’ll never let them forget it.”  _ Love.  _ Rachel didn’t seem to notice that she said it, and Quinn let it slide. She would say it back later.

“Rachel…” 

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I was there.” Rachel’s eyes widened and her brow furrowed in confusion. “Not  _ there,  _ there, but I was in New York. With Kurt, for the Show Choir National Championships. We all were.” She released a single loud, disbelieving chuckle. “I have to thank Santana for being such a bitch that night. If she hadn’t been harassing Kurt for his lack of songwriting ability, he never would’ve gone on that late night walk.” Goosebumps erupted over every inch of Rachel’s skin. Santana Lopez, in true Santana Lopez fashion, indirectly saved her life. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer  _ coincidence  _ of it all. “I’ve always wondered what he did when he was out so late that night,” Quinn mumbled, mostly to herself. Rachel was still stuck on the bit of information about Santana.

“I’m giving Santana the biggest hug tomorrow, she’s going to have no idea what hit her.” Quinn laughed and pulled Rachel impossibly closer.

“Me too.” They laid there in silence, tangled together and happy.

Quinn smiled.

“By the way…”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too, Rachel Berry.” And she did. She really, really did.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is... something. i kinda hate it but it’s necessary for the plot so here u go. leave some comments pls!!!!

Rachel Berry had never hated anyone more in her entire life than she hated Santana Lopez for banging on their bedroom door. Although, she should be grateful that Santana didn’t just barge in; if she saw Quinn’s head between Rachel’s legs at eight o’clock in the morning, they would _never_ live it down.

“Wake the hell up, lovebirds!” Quinn groaned in frustration and rested her head on Rachel’s thigh.

“We’re kind of in the middle of something, Lopez!” she yelled back, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Yeah, I know, Berry is louder than a freight train in bed. Finish up and get some clothes on, we have a visitor!” Quinn smirked up at Rachel and started to lower her head, but Rachel rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“As much as I would love to continue this, we should get out there. This is already awkward enough.” Quinn sighed heavily and climbed off of Rachel in defeat.

“I’m gonna kill whoever’s out there,” she mumbled.

When they were dressed and looking presentable enough, they were greeted with the sight of Kurt Hummel in the living room.

“Kurt!” Rachel cried, before running over and tackling him in a hug. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t wrinkle the suit, Superstar.” When he pulled away from Rachel, his eyes landed on Quinn. “You aged nicely, Fabray.” She smiled at him, as if to thank him for being civil when she didn’t deserve it.

“You too, Hummel.” Santana rolled her eyes.

“The homosexuality in this room is suffocating. Can we get down to business, ladies?” she quipped, flopping down on the couch next to Brittany. Kurt clapped his hands in agreement.

“Okay, first thing’s first,” he turned to Rachel, “have you been keeping up with your exercises?” Santana scoffed.

“I’m sure Q gives her enough of a work out in there,” she said, jerking a thumb at the bedroom. Kurt rolled his eyes.

“I mean her vocal exercises. We can’t afford to have you fall out of practice, Rachel.” She shifted back and forth on her feet.

“Why, is she any good?” Santana asked, and Kurt began laughing hysterically. He was doubled over, clutching his stomach. It was quite a sight to see someone immaculate as him trying not to fall over in hysteria. His laughter trailed away when he saw Santana’s scowl.

“Wait… you’re serious?” He whirled around on Rachel, who cringed. “Is she serious? Have you not performed for them?”

“I’ve been… taking a break.” He crossed his arms and stared her down.

“ _Please_ tell me you’ve done some form of musical training in the month you’ve been here.” She stared down at the ground.

“Rachel Barbra Berry!”

“I’ve been a little busy, Kurt!” she hissed back. He held his head in his hands.

“We need to get you to a piano as soon as possible.” He lifted his head and turned to the other three women. “Is there anything else you three can do today that doesn’t involve my equipment and expertise?” All eyes in the room turned to Quinn.

“Well, there is one thing,” Santana said hesitantly, eyeing her best friend.

“What is it?” Quinn sighed loudly and shook her head lightly.

“Talking to my mother.” Kurt didn’t know much, but he guessed that was a point of strife in Quinn’s life.

“Can you deal with that today while I find a piano and get Rachel back on track?” he asked gently, and she nodded. She met his eyes.

“I can call Sue and she can let you guys into the school. You can use the choir room.” He smiled in thanks as Rachel moved closer to her girlfriend.

“Are you sure? I can come with you to talk to her,” she said softly, a hand on Quinn’s back.

“I’ll be okay with the girls, Rach. If you don’t go with Kurt, he’s gonna tear his hair out.” Kurt nodded.

“And that would be a travesty for _everyone.”_ He met Quinn’s eyes again. “How soon can we get into the hellhole?”

“Sue wakes up at 5 every morning. You can go now, I can text her to meet you there. I’ll get my shit together and head to Judy’s with the girls in a bit.” She gathered Rachel into her arms for a tight hug. Rachel stood on her tippy-toes to plant a lingering kiss on Quinn’s lips.

“You’ll be okay, my love. If something happens, call me, okay?” Quinn smiled down at her, eyes sparkling with that look she only got for Rachel.

“I will. Have fun with Kurt.” With that, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and typed up a quick text to Sue requesting her presence at the school.

The response was an immediate: _Anything for you, Fabray._

She kissed Rachel one last time before sending the New Yorkers on their way. Then, she turned to the girls and heaved a heavy sigh. They had a long day ahead of them.

 

As Kurt pulled into the parking lot of his alma mater, he was greeted with a sight he’d hoped he’d never see again: Sue Sylvester leaning against her precious LeCar, waiting for him to arrive. He killed the engine after he parked and blew out a long breath to psych himself up for the upcoming confrontation.

“You okay?” Rachel asked, suddenly feeling concern for her best friend.

“I’m good, just… nervous, I guess. I never planned to see her again. Let’s just get this over with.”

As they walked towards Sue, she crossed her arms and smiled a little.

“Hello, my sweet Porcelain. Seeing your toothless smile makes me reminiscent of my times spent filling your locker with dirt and watching Weepy the Vest Clown funnel his life savings into his little glee club,” she greeted, pushing herself off the car to stand up straighter.

“Hi, Sue. Thank you for helping us.” He paused for a moment as he pondered her previous statement. “Is he still working here?” Sue scoffed.

“Oh, god no. I took him down a long time ago. He’s retired, off living the American dream with that mentally unstable doe-eyed ginger pygmy.” Kurt nodded, like he understood every word she was saying. Rachel was completely lost; it was like everyone from Lima knew a secret language that she wasn’t clued in on. “Enough about Butt-Chin. You’re hanging out with a famous actress, who’s hanging out with Q, so in my book that means you’re tolerable.” She threw a single key at him, which he barely managed to catch. “That’s the master key to the palace. Don’t lose it or I will have your ass.” She turned and walked around to get into her car. As she drove away, Kurt watched her go, chuckling in disbelief.

“She hasn’t changed a bit. Come on, let’s go see my old stomping grounds.” Kurt grabbed Rachel’s hand and pulled her towards the main entrance of William McKinley High School.

It was quiet. Peaceful. Something it never was when Kurt was enrolled. He dropped Rachel’s hand and slowly walked forward, taking in the dusty lockers and checkered linoleum floors. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, making the hallways look more serene than when they were flooded with LED lights and Sue Sylvester’s voice over a megaphone. His footsteps echoed through the halls as he slowly made his way towards the choir room, Rachel trailing behind him. He stopped to look at a trophy case on the wall.

“There’s your girlfriend at the height of her reign on this place,” he told her, pointing to a picture of Quinn in her Cheerios uniform, not a strand out of place in her high pony as she smiled broadly. The plaque under her picture read: _Quinn Fabray, Head Cheerio 2010._ “That year they took Nationals, first place in every category. It was mostly thanks to her.” Rachel stared at the picture; she almost couldn’t recognize the girl in it. The life in her eyes that Rachel was used to, the happiness of her features, none of it was in the photo. She looked so _sad,_ even though she was smiling.

“Wow,” was all Rachel could bring herself to say. Kurt turned to her and she could tell by the look on his face that he had a question.

“Did… Did Russell give her that scar on her neck?” Rachel shook her head.

“No. That’s from a car accident that put her in a wheelchair for a while.” His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“Damn. God must really hate Quinn Fabray, huh?” He chuckled humorlessly to himself. “And putting the whole pregnancy thing on top of that shit? You’ve got one hell of a girlfriend, Superstar.” Rachel’s phone slipped out of her hand and shattered on the floor.

“The _what?”_

 

Quinn let out a long, shaky breath as she stood on the doorstep of her childhood home, flanked by Santana and Brittany. She smoothed out her shirt before knocking twice on the huge wooden door. She heard the clicking of Judy’s heels on the tile, then the door opened.

“Oh… Hello, Quinn.” Judy’s eyes were wide, like the last person she expected to see in this moment was her daughter. “Come in, girls.” She opened up the door a little wider so they could all file into the house.

Quinn struggled to breathe.

Everywhere she looked, all she could see was that night. The foyer, where her parents stood, watching stone-faced as Santana carried her out the door. The stairs, where Santana held her and helped her down them, leaving a trail of blood behind. She briefly wondered if it left a stain.

She felt Santana’s and slip into her own and squeeze, and she drifted back down to reality.

“Mom, we’re here to talk to you about something. Is now a good time?”

“Well, I was just about to go to the morning service, but it’s not too important. Let’s go sit.” Judy led them to the living room, and the girls took their seats on the couch, Judy on a chair facing them.

“Okay, I’ll cut right to the chase. We have a plan to take Russell down, get him out of office, and your involvement, while unnecessary, would be extremely helpful,” Santana explained through gritted teeth, remembering the stern warning Quinn had given her about being civil. Judy’s eyes widened and she remained silent for a long time.

“Um… what exactly is the plan?”

“We’re putting together a video that explains all the bad stuff he did to Quinn. A lot of people are gonna talk in it,” Brittany replied. “We were hoping you could be in it, since you were there and stuff.” Quinn kept her eyes trained on the coffee table, knowing what would come next and dreading it.

“Wait.” All eyes turned to her. “Before you answer, I need to tell you something. If you don’t want to help after I tell you, I understand. Me being gay is one thing, but this…” She laughed humorlessly. “This is a whole ‘nother thing.” Brittany and Santana shared a look; they had no idea what was about to happen.

“You can tell me, Quinnie.” It was silent for a long moment while Quinn worked up the courage to speak.

“During sophomore year, I got pregnant. The only time I slept with a guy. It’s why I got kicked off the Cheerios; someone snitched on me to Sue. I got the abortion because I was terrified of what Russell would do if he found out, plus raising a child with Puckerman would be Hell on Earth. All of this is, like, really against our religion and all that, so if you want me to leave and never contact you again, I can deal with that; I’ve done it before.”

Judy was staring at her daughter, open-mouthed and crying silent tears. This was not the reaction Quinn was expecting; she envisioned yelling and screaming and shattering glass.

“Oh, Lucy…” Judy started, but she broke down in choking sobs before she could finish. No one moved a muscle as Judy cried, no one spoke a word.

She abruptly stood up and wedged herself between Quinn and Brittany, clinging to her daughter for dear life.

“Lucy…” she choked out, then took another moment to compose herself. “I am _so sorry.”_ Quinn couldn’t move. All she could do was try to breathe, and keep her arms around her mother.

“Wh-What?”

“I am so sorry that you had to go through that alone. Without… Without your mother. My biggest regret in life will always be not standing up to your- to Russell and getting you out of that house. I’m so sorry, Quinn.”

“I wasn’t alone. Puck went with me to the clinic.”

“That’s not what I mean. I should’ve been there for you, I’m your _mother.”_ She sniffled and released a shaky breath before composing her features in true Fabray fashion. “I will do whatever you ask of me. He will not harm another person ever again, not if I have a say in it.”

Quinn broke into the biggest smile Judy had ever seen.

 

“Again, Rachel, I thought she told you. I’m really sorry,” Kurt said rapidly after he finished the story. Rachel was staring at the picture of Quinn in the trophy case. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” He nodded. “No. I think I’m just… in a bit of shock right now.”

“Look, Rach, it was a long time ago, and she didn’t even have the kid. It’s not that big of a deal.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe it’s kind of a big deal, but it seems like she’s kept it in the past; like she’s gotten over it. Plus, she probably hasn’t gotten the time to tell you since we’ve got all this other shit going on right now.” Rachel nodded mutely; she still couldn’t really believe it. _Puckerman,_ of all people. Kurt was right, though, they did seem to be over it. Rachel sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair.

“Let’s just get to a piano. If she wants to talk to me about it, she will.” Kurt eyed her with concern, but still took her hand and led her down the halls to the choir room. When he opened the door and stepped in, tears immediately sprang to his eyes.

It was exactly how he remembered it.

“Oh… oh, wow,” he whispered in awe. The chairs were in the same arrangement, the piano was in the same place. Their Nationals trophy was on proud display next to a group picture of the original members of the New Directions. He slowly walked over to it, stretching a hand out and making sure it was real.

“What is that?”

“Our first place Nationals trophy. We didn’t win in New York, but we wiped the floor with everyone in Chicago,” he replied with a reminiscent smile. “Look, there’s me as a little teen.” Rachel giggled at the sight of Kurt with his hair swept across his forehead, wearing a clearly homemade sweater.

“Oh, look at little Blaine and his bowties! Wow, Noah hasn’t changed a bit.” Kurt chuckled.

“God, I hope that’s not true. Look, Rach, the Unholy Trinity in their truest form.” He pointed at the trio in the corner of the picture; Quinn in the middle with Brittany and Santana by her sides, hands on their hips and smiling broadly. She looked happier in this one.

After Kurt rambled on for a bit about his glory days in show choir, he decided it was time to get to work. They had a long day ahead of them.

 

It was a little past lunch time, and Quinn was finding herself missing Rachel Berry.

Luckily, she knew exactly how to remedy that situation. After a quick trip to Britt’s to pick up a to-go order for Rachel (an iced tea and some of Brittany’s special mac and cheese), she was at the school in record time. She chuckled to herself when she tried the front door and it opened; she wouldn’t mention that to Sue. It would result in her girlfriend and Kurt Hummel being killed. She strode confidently through the halls as she made her way to the choir room; she always managed to find confidence when she was in this building.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she heard Rachel Berry singing.

It was accompanied by a piano, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. As she inched closer and peered through the window, she fell even more in love. She could _see_ the passion in Rachel as she sang, she could _feel_ it. The way her eyebrow crinkled in concentration, the way she held herself as she belted out a long note. Her voice was ethereal, and chills crawled up Quinn’s spine, one vertebrae at a time, as she listened. There were no words to describe it, and when she trailed off on the last note and the piano faded out, she had to remember how to move before she could enter the room.

“Holy _shit,_ Rachel. Oh, my God. Just… Holy shit,” she greeted softly as she closed the door behind her. Rachel lit up at the sight of her and Kurt was smiling proudly from the piano bench.

“I know, right? And those fools at her high school said she’d never make it.”

“Those fools are fucking _stupid._ Jesus Christ.” Rachel was grinning, and she had a light in her eyes that Quinn had never seen before. It made Quinn’s breath catch in her throat, and she had to just stare for a while until she noticed Kurt’s raised brow. She coughed awkwardly. “Uh, anyways, I brought you some food from Britt. She says hi.” Rachel licked her lips and kissed Quinn quickly before snatching the bag of food from her hands and unpacking it on top of the piano.

“This is why I love you, Quinn Fabray.” Quinn’s heart skipped a beat at the words, and she blushed deeply as Rachel devoured the mac and cheese. Kurt caught her attention before she could reply.

“So, any updates on your mother?”

“Uh, yeah. She’s in. She said she can film her part tomorrow.” Rachel dropped her fork and smiled widely at her girlfriend.

“That’s fantastic! I told you you had nothing to worry about, honey.” She wrapped her arms around Quinn’s waist and pulled her close. Quinn rolled her eyes but kissed the top of Rachel’s head.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Kurt shook his head at the display in front of him.

“This is such a weird sight,” he mumbled to himself. Rachel chuckled before looking back up at Quinn.

“Are we ready to start filming?” She nodded.

“My people are ready, as long as Kurt is.” On cue, Kurt clapped his hands loudly and immediately started packing up his sheet music.

“Let’s get this show on the road, ladies.”

 

Kurt was setting up his tripod in the living room of the apartment while Rachel was zooming around, trying to make everything as comfortable for Quinn as possible; she would be filming first.

“Do you need anything else, honey? Some coffee? A snack?” Rachel asked quickly as she gave Quinn a back massage. Quinn chuckled lightly and tipped her head back to look at her girlfriend.

“Rach, calm down. All I need is a kiss from you and I’ll be fine.” Rachel rolled her eyes.

“That was so gross.”

“Are you gonna deny me my one wish?” Rachel shook her head slightly and leaned down to connect their lips. Quinn quickly deepened the kiss, if only to stall for a little more time before she had to go to the living room.

“Ugh, stop making out with Berry and get to the living room, Quinn, Kurt’s ready to start filming,” Santana called as she exited the bathroom and walked over to Kurt. Quinn sighed against Rachel’s lips before pulling away and running both hands through her hair.

“I guess it’s time.” Rachel kissed her on the cheek and smiled reassuringly.

Quinn was sitting on a chair in front of the camera, fiddling with the paper in her hands despite Rachel’s warning that if she wasn’t careful, she would smudge the ink. Kurt was focusing the lens.

“Okay, Quinn, you don’t need to be nervous; we can do as many retakes as you need.” She nodded and straightened out the paper so she could read it. “Ready?” Another nod. Kurt pressed the record button on the camera and pointed at her. Her eyes were trained on the paper as she began.

“Hi, my name is Quinn Fabray and I’m…” she trailed off, then sighed heavily and closed her eyes. Then, she crumpled up the paper in her hands and threw it over her shoulder.

She opened her eyes, looked right into the camera, and started speaking.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took a while to get right, but i’m pretty happy with it. please leave a comment & let me know what you think!

“ _I had_ _a script written out for this, but I don’t want to read off of a paper. So, here it goes. Russell Fabray was my father. He isn’t anymore, though; he stopped deserving that title when he disowned me for being gay.” A hand threaded through blonde hair, then pictures of the Fabray family flashed across the screen: Judy and Russell sitting on chairs with Frannie and Quinn in their laps. Blonde, hazel-eyed regals. They faded out and Quinn was back. “I grew up in a conservative, religious household where we discussed nothing but grades, cheerleading and God. I was raised to hold my head high and step on others to get to the top. And I did that, for a long time.” She laughed a little. “I hurt a lot of people to maintain my position as head cheerleader in high school.” Pictures of Quinn in her cheerleading uniform, some including Brittany and Santana, appeared as Quinn kept talking. “I thought that if I did everything my father asked, he would actually love me. Not the real me, but the me he saw as his daughter. President of the Celibacy Club, Head Cheerio Lucy Quinn Fabray. The daughter he would accept.” The pictures disappeared and Quinn returned. “My junior year of high school was when I realized I was a lesbian. I think in the back of my mind, I knew way before then, but I buried it deep down because I was taught that it was wrong, and that gay people went to Hell. Instead of accepting myself, I hated myself. And I took it out by bullying people that were different… people that, even though they didn’t know it, were just like me.” Her eyes darted from the camera to somewhere behind it. “I realized that I didn’t have to be ashamed when I joined the show choir, and everyone was different, everyone was special. But, I was still confused about what in the hell I was feeling, so I was angry, and frustrated. And when I get angry and frustrated…” She laughed loudly, “I fight with Santana Lopez.” A jumpcut, and the background remained the same, but now Santana was sitting in the chair, looking at her nails._

_“I remember the fight that started the whole thing. She was pissy because, well, basically, I’m a better singer than her and she wanted a solo even though I got it. Things got messy, then next thing I know, I’m kissing her. And, before any of you thirsty bitches ask, yes, Q is an excellent kisser.” She winked to someone behind the camera and smirked. “Anyway, yeah, we had a little fling for a few weeks. I’ve never let her live down the fact that I was her sexual awakening.” Another jumpcut, and Quinn was back._

_“Santana and I got sloppy with being discreet. I invited her over one night, since my parents were at church-” she snorted, “-so we could hook up. I didn’t hear the front door open. Russell walked in on us, you know, in bed.” A pause. A shaky breath. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. They were watery, but the tears refused to fall. “He dragged me out of the bed by my hair, and beat me. Badly.” Pictures appeared. Quinn’s face, bruised, swollen and bleeding. Quinn’s back, sliced up and stained red. Quinn’s abdomen, battered beyond recognition. Violent shades of green, yellow, blue and purple. No inch of creamy, pale skin in sight. They faded out, and Quinn returned. Her tears were falling silently. “I don’t remember much after my back hit the picture frame. After that, it was only pain.” Jumpcut; Santana. She was looking straight into the camera and her smirk was gone._

_“It was fucking horrible. Can I curse in this? Whatever, it stresses my point. I froze up at first, when he first started hitting her, but when that glass shattered, I snapped out of it. He was kicking the shit out of her stomach and… I don’t know what came over me. I saw fucking red. My naked ass charged him and knocked him flat on the ground. I got in a few punches, too, before he threw me off him and stood up. The bastard just straightened his tie and told Quinn she had thirty minutes to pack her shit up and get the hell out of his house.” Another jumpcut and Quinn was back, eyes red but not crying._

_“Santana packed my stuff. I think I was half unconscious, ‘cause all I could do was cry. She put her clothes on, then dressed me, then hauled, like, five bags on her shoulders and helped me down the stairs.” She shook her head and chuckled quietly. “She mumbled something about multiple trips being for pussies.” A heavy, shaky breath. “At the foot of the stairs, near the front door, my mom and Russell stood there, just watching. They didn’t say anything, they just stood there with straight faces and watched us leave. Santana managed to flip them off as we walked out, though. I’m proud of her for that.” A jumpcut, and Judy Fabray was now sitting in the chair. There was a few seconds of silence before she started speaking._

_“After Russell went up the stairs, I heard a commotion. I didn’t really think much of it, until he came down with blood on his clothes and his hair was messed up. I stayed quiet, though, because… because I was a coward back  then. Russell has been a violent man since two years after we got married, when he started drinking heavily. I was scared to death of what he would to do me, so I let him throw my beautiful daughter out of our house for who she loves.” Judy was crying silently, just like Quinn was. The Fabray women knew how to bury their emotions. “That’s why I’m here. I was a coward back then, but not anymore. Lucy Quinn, my sweet girl, was almost killed by that man, and you all need to know it.” Older pictures of Judy and Quinn inhabited the screen for a few seconds before Santana returned._

_“After I got everything into my car, I drove to the first place I could think of that would be safe for Q, since she refused to go to the hospital. Sam Evans’s house.” Another jumpcut, and Sam Evans was now on the screen. He had gotten a haircut for the occasion; it was short and brown._

_“When I saw Santana’s car outside, I knew it was nothing good; that girl would never visit me on her own free will,” he started with a roll of his eyes. “When I got closer and I saw Quinn, I wanted to drive over to the Fabray’s house and kick that guy’s ass. And I coulda done it, too. I mean, look at these guns!” He flexed an arm and grinned at the camera. “Anyways, when she saw me, she got this big smile on her face, and it looked weird ‘cause she was all beat up, but it was the happiest I’d seen her since we met.” Pictures of Sam and Quinn, some from high school, and some more recent flashed across the screen while he kept talking. “Q and I are like siblings. I think of her as my sister.” He reappeared. “I was the first person she told about her sexuality and stuff, and she was always there for me when I was going through my own shit. So, I think she smiled when she saw me because she knew that I would keep her safe, and I would take care of her. And that’s what I did. I got her inside my house and into the spare bedroom, then me and Santana called her mom. Santana’s mom, not Quinn’s,” he added quickly with a little chuckle. “She’s a nurse, so she could help us since Q wouldn’t go to the damn hospital.” Sam was replaced by Maria Lopez._

_“I’ve known Quinn since she was a little girl. She and Santana have been friends since preschool.” Pictures of Santana and Quinn as toddlers appeared for a few moments before the video cut back to Maria. “When I saw her in that state, my heart broke. It was like seeing my own child hurt. I got her back sewn up, and I told her how to manage the broken ribs. I gave her pain meds and salve to put on the bruises. It was all I could do, since she wouldn’t let me bring her to Lima Medical. I tried to get her to agree to talk to the police, but she wouldn’t budge. I still don’t know why. I took pictures of her injuries, though, just in case she ever wanted to.” Quinn was back._

_“I didn’t want anyone to know about it. Partly because I had some insane hope that maybe my parents would regret it and let me come back, and everything would be okay. Another part of me was just ashamed. I felt weak, and worthless. I was thrown out like trash, like I didn’t matter. That feeling stuck with me a long time. Luckily, I had Sue.” Quinn was gone, and Sue Sylvester was there._

_“Hello, world. You know me, Channel 12 news anchor and nationally ranked cheerleading coach. Quinn Fabray is my daughter. She’s strong as hell, an excellent cheerleader, and has impeccable bone structure. She checks all the boxes for a Sylvester.” She smiled at someone off camera. “She didn’t show up to any summer practices, and I was, frankly, appalled. My captain, skipping out on the most important duties of her life? So, I cornered Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Fake-Boobs-” a caption at the bottom of the screen read: Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez, “-and demanded to know where she was. Brittany caved immediately, and told me she was at Trouty’s-” caption: Sam Evans, “house, so I sent the girls home early and went over there to tear her a new one. When I saw what that son of a bitch did, I vowed to never rest until he was taken down. When he started his campaign, I slaughtered him on my segments on Sue’s Corner, and I’m actually surprised that didn’t work in getting him shunned from society. But, alas, it seems my day has finally come.” She pointed at the camera. “Russell Fabray, you are on a sinking ship, my friend. And I hope you drown.” Sue faded out, and Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez were now on screen._

_“Hi! I’m Brittany, San’s wife. We’re Q’s best friends, with Sam, of course. We visited her every day all summer, and helped her apply her bandages and stuff. I had to help her shower once, but that’s okay, ‘cause she’s really hot.” Someone snorted off screen and Santana guffawed._

_“What B is trying to say is that we helped Quinn recover. We even went to that God-forsaken pet store with Sammy boy to buy that devil of a dog.” Pictures of Quinn, Sam and Adonis appeared. “That house was chalk-full of blondes for way too many years. Adonis really made Quinn happier, though. That’s what matters.” The couple was replaced by Noah Puckerman. He was seated much more informally than everyone else, leaning back in the chair with his hands on the back of his head._

_“Q and I go way back. I noticed a lot of weird shit about that fuckhead Russell, but I always just thought it was ‘cause he didn’t like me hanging around his daughter. Looking back, it was because he’s a piece of shit. Whenever Q was around him, she would get really quiet and, like, submissive, I guess. It was the complete opposite of how she was at school. She looked scared of him. If I ever see that dude, he’s gonna taste my fuckin’ fists.” There was a jumpcut and Puck was sitting in a different position. “Okay, I was just told that I’m not allowed to threaten anyone. Lame. So, I retract my previous statement and it is now hypothetical.” He grinned and winked at the camera, then he was gone, and Quinn was back. Her lips were redder than usual, and she had a dreamy look on her face._

_“After that night, a lot of bad shit still happened to me, but it didn’t get me down as much, because I was finally able to be myself. I could live without fear. Russell Fabray is nothing but a hateful bigot, a sorry excuse for a man that doesn’t deserve to be called my father. I pushed what happened away, to the back of my mind, for a long time. But I’ve recently met someone that has made me realize that life is better when you don’t hide yourself away. Part of me realized that after it happened, but I was still a little ashamed of it until she came along. The attack made me who I am today, and in some sick, twisted way, I’m grateful; because, if it weren’t for his shittiness, I would probably be a repressed housewife married to some boring businessman and hating my life. But I escaped him, and now I run an auto repair shop with my best friends, and I live with the woman I love.” She grinned at that last part, and someone wolf-whistled from behind the camera. “Shut up, Santana. And, suck on that, Russell. You tried to silence me, you tried to take away a part of me, and you failed. And I won’t continue to stand by and watch you try to turn the state of Ohio into a hellhole for people like me.” Her expression turned serious and she looked straight into the camera. “This is a call to action. We, as a society, cannot allow a man like this to have a seat in the Senate. I’m sorry for not coming forward sooner, but I’ve just recently gotten the courage to. Better late than never, right?” She smiled a little. “Russell, if you’re watching this, I hope you feel like shit. I’m thriving, I’m happy, and I’m gay. And you can’t do anything about that.”_

_Quinn faded away, and Sue Sylvester returned. She formed the letter C with her hand._

_“And that’s how Sue C’s it.”_

_The screen faded to black._

They were all gathered around the TV, which Kurt had connected his laptop to. Everyone was silent for a while after the video ended, in awe. Kurt’s editing skills made everything even more emotional, and for a lot of them, it was their first time seeing the pictures of Quinn after the attack. Sue, Maria and Judy were sitting on chairs they moved from the kitchen. Brittany, Santana, Quinn, Rachel and Kurt were squeezed together on the couch, and Puck and Sam were on the floor. Judy and Rachel were crying. Quinn was grinning like an idiot.

“Holy shit, Kurt, that was amazing!” she yelled and climbed over Rachel to hug him tightly. He was startled at first, but soon wrapped his arms around the blonde.

“Well, it took me two days to edit, so it better be.”

“Hummel, you have great taste for making me the last person on screen. Good job, sweet Porcelain,” Sue said, somewhat genuinely. He smiled at her. Judy turned to Sue, tears streaming down her face.

“Sue… did you really mean it when you said Quinn was your daughter?” Sue stared Judy in the eyes and nodded once.

“You’re damn right I do. Q, S and B are all my daughters, and no one can say any different.” Brittany cooed and climbed over the back of the couch to sit on Sue’s lap.

“I love you, Sue,” she said as she hugged the coach tightly.

“Yeah, yeah. Now get off me before I hurl on your hideous sweater,” Sue replied, but held on tightly. Judy placed a tentative hand on Sue’s shoulder.

“Thank you. For taking care of her, for… for being her mother when I was too much of a coward to do it.”

“I don’t need a thank you. I love that girl. I made sure she graduated, and I dragged her ass to physical therapy when Sandbags couldn’t get her out of bed. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for her.” Judy nodded mutely; she was well aware that she wasn’t exactly anybody’s favorite person in the room, but they all had a begrudging respect for her for being there. It was monumental. Kurt clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay, guys, I think the time has come to release this masterpiece to the public.” Everyone cheered as he moved over to his computer. “Rach and I created a Twitter page for Quinn; we can post the link there and once Rach retweets it, the views will start rolling in. She’s got 2.3 million followers,” he said with a grin. He opened a tab and the YouTube homepage appeared on the TV, and he signed into an account named  _ Quinn Fabray.  _ “So, I’m just gonna upload it now…” he trailed off, and with a few clicks, the video was up, titled  _ The Truth About Russell Fabray, _ “and then copy the link and tweet it on Quinn’s account.” He opened another tab and signed into Twitter. 

“We left the biography blank for you to write your own,” Rachel told Quinn, smiling widely. The profile picture was the blonde sitting on the back of her truck, wearing her overalls and that lopsided grin, both her hands forming the hang loose sign. It was Rachel’s favorite picture. The header was the night sky, the view seen from the wheat fields near Lonesome Road. 

“Wanna do the honors, Quinn?” Kurt asked, sliding the computer over to her. She grinned and typed up a message, then pasted the link after it. 

It read:  _ My name is Quinn Fabray, and @ _ **_SenRussellFabray_ ** _ has some explaining to do.  _

She pressed the send tweet button with a flourish, and the room erupted in cheers. Rachel immediately went on her phone and followed Quinn, then retweeted the link. Sam jumped up from the floor and pulled Quinn off the couch and hugged her tightly. 

“I’m so proud of you, Quinn,” he said softly in her ear, so only she could hear him above the noise. She held on tighter. 

“I love you, Sammy.”

Now, all that was left to do was wait. 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Social media reaction to Quinn's story! Comment please, that shit keeps me writing.

Within six hours, Quinn’s video had gotten 75,000 views, thanks to Rachel’s retweet. Santana was obsessing over replies to the tweet, reading them out loud to the group. 

_ @lesbianluthor:  _ ladies….. we have three new gay icons on our hands 

_ @sunshineberry:  _ why was rach the first one to rt this?

_ @RachelBerry4Life:  _ Quinn is so brave! Thanks for sharing this, Rachel!

_ @emmasmith13:  _ i need more sam evans content immediately. he’s so fine

@ElaineMayfield: This story makes me ashamed of the fact that I voted for him. Miss Fabray, you are so strong for coming forward with your story, and I stand with you, dear. 

_ @allsuperheroesaregay:  _ quinn santana & brittany are gonna overthrow the government and rule us in some fantastic gay trifecta and i, frankly, am so ready for that

_ @slutforbroadway:  _ sue is an icon, shes been trying to make r*ssell choke for years

“Guppy, they think you’re fine! This is hilarious,” Santana cackled, wiping tears from her eyes. 

“Santana, shut up. You should be more focused on the ones that talk about the impact the video is having. This is insane,” Quinn interrupted, snatching the phone from Santana’s hands and reading over the comments. “Rach, your fans have some interesting usernames. I mean, ‘rachelberryswhore’? Really?” Santana snorted.

“Q, you should sue them for identity theft.” A pillow hit the Latina square in the face, and Quinn grinned at her girlfriend’s antics.

“Thanks for defending my honor, babe,” she murmured and placed a light kiss on Rachel’s cheek.

“My pleasure. Now, let’s give my fans something to  _ really  _ tweet about.” Rachel pulled her phone out of her pocket and held it out. Quinn took it and kissed Rachel’s cheek again, snapping a picture as she did so. She handed it back to Rachel with a soft smile.

“That’s what you wanted, right?”

“You read my mind, Fabray.” They shared a chaste kiss, and Santana groaned and stood to get away from the couch. She took a seat on the arm of Sam’s chair.

“You two are disgusting. Seriously. Can we have three seconds without PDA? It’s a little much,” she grumbled. Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. You’re just grumpy because Brittany is at work,” she replied. It was her turn to get a pillow to the face. She threw it back at Santana, who ducked. It nailed Sam in the side of the head. He mumbled something about all of them being children as he shoved it under his arm. Rachel pressed send on her tweet, with the picture attached.

_ This woman is magic, and I am so lucky to have her.  _ **_@QuinnFabray_ **

“Gee, Berry, I can’t wait to hear your wedding vows,” Santana quipped as she read it. 

“Sammy, hit her with that pillow for me, will ya?” Quinn said, and Sam just nodded and swung the pillow at the Latina. The force of the blow sent her toppling to the ground, much to Rachel and Quinn’s enjoyment.

“You assholes are gonna pay for that. Mark my words,” Santana growled as she stood and stalked into the kitchen. Kurt came back to the living room from the bathroom, eyes locked on his phone and brow creased in concentration.

“You good, Hummel?” Sam greeted. Kurt’s head snapped up and he shook his head.

“I’m incredibly on edge. It’s been hours, and the video has gone completely viral. Views are doubling by the second.”

“Why is that bad?” Sam asked, leaning forward to listen.

“Not a peep from Senator Fabray. Anywhere. News and media outlets are already doing coverage; I’ve seen at least four articles. Plus, reporters are slamming Quinn’s DMs for a chance to break more of the story. But he hasn’t released a statement yet. Which means he either lives under a rock, or he’s planning to swing back, hard.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Quinn crossed her arms over her chest.

“How could he? Swing back, I mean. He doesn’t have anything on me, and he’d be stupid to just outright deny everything. What could he be planning?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m scared. I mean, he could just be running around doing damage control right now, I’d like to think he is, but someone with his wealth and influence has to have some way to get out of this.”

“Yeah, our justice system is fucked!” Santana called from the kitchen. Rachel nodded in agreement.

“All we can do is wait and see what his next move is.” He plopped down on the couch next to Rachel and grinned at her. “So, in the meantime, why don’t you put on a little show for us, Superstar?”

“Oh, absolutely. Let’s see what you got, Hobbit. My psychic Mexican third eye is telling me that I could wipe the floor with your ass,” Santana said as she strutted back into the room, taking her place on the arm of Sam’s chair. Kurt and Quinn scoffed in unison.

“Do you have two Tony’s, Santana? Have you ever been on Broadway?” Kurt retorted. Santana rolled her eyes.

“I’m from Lima Heights Adjacent, Porcelain. Not NYC. Just because I didn’t have the same resources or opportunities as Berry doesn’t mean I’m not just as good.” Kurt seemed surprised at her shockingly valid answer.

“Good point. But, you’re still wrong, and to prove it to you, we’re gonna have a sing-off while we wait for the shoe to drop with Russell. In true New Directions fashion.” Rachel raised her hand slowly.

“Um, do I get a say in this?”

“No,” came the reply of Santana, Kurt and Quinn. Sam just shrugged at her.

“Can you at least tell me what a ‘New Directions sing-off’ entails?”

“Well, usually, Professor Buttchin would make a shitty decision on who got a solo, so we’d demand a competition to pick the rightful winner,” Santana started. “Like, Trouty’s way better than Finn, but Shue was, like, in love with Frankenteen, so he got all the male lead parts. It was fucked.”

“And Tina Cohen-Chang getting more solos than you or Mercedes Jones? Or me, for that matter? Obnoxious,” Quinn mumbled. Kurt snapped his fingers in solidarity with her statement.

“You  _ know  _ my girl ‘Cedes could sing circles around Tina. She had twice the range. Favoritism at its finest.” Rachel chuckled to herself. “What are you laughing at, Rach?”

“I was just thinking about myself in high school. If I had gone to school with you all, I would’ve been this Tina girl.”

“Yeah, but you would’ve deserved it.”

“Okay, guys, let’s not talk too much shit on Tina. She was pretty good. Shue was just too obsessed with consistency to change anything up,” Sam said. “Plus, she did win us Nationals with that song she wrote.” 

“Oh, please. Anything was better than the shit Hummel was coming up with,” Santana quipped with a good-hearted grin. A feeling of remembrance settled over Quinn; Santana’s disagreements with Kurt’s writing style ended up saving Rachel’s life. When a small smile spread over Rachel’s face, Quinn knew she remembered, too.

“Santana, I need to thank you.” The room went quiet in confusion.

“For what?” the Latina drawled. Rachel took a deep breath.

“For being such a bitch to Kurt in New York that he decided to go on a walk around the city at four in the morning.” When Santana’s brow raised, Rachel knew she had to continue. “He found me on the Manhattan Bridge, one foot off the ledge.” Kurt’s hand flew to Rachel’s leg in support. “He stopped me from killing myself, which wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been… well, yourself. So, in a way, you saved my life. Thank you.” Santana was staring at Rachel, mouth agape, eyes shining. She stood.

“Berry…” she trailed off, then pulled the smaller woman to her feet and wrapped her in a tight hug. Rachel was stunned; Santana Lopez was a wonderful hugger. She looped her arms around Santana’s waist and squeezed and buried her head in her shoulder. It lasted a bit longer than either of them had anticipated, and they only broke apart when Quinn cleared her throat loudly. Santana sniffled and smiled a little. “You’re welcome, short stuff. My third eye knew you had to live long enough for me to crush you in a singing competition.” Rachel laughed loudly and hugged her again.

“Well, that’s never gonna happen, so I guess I’m destined for immortality. You’re certainly allowed to try, though.” Kurt clapped his hands and sprang to his feet.

“Okay! Let’s do this, then. Sam, you have your guitar in your car, correct?” he asked. Sam was staring at nothing, his eyes wet with tears. “Sam?” He shook himself back into reality.

“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I do. I’ll go get it.” He stood up and made his way over to Rachel instead of the door. “I’m really glad you’re still here, Rach,” he whispered as he enveloped her in his arms. She immediately relaxed into his hold; Sam had a way of making anyone feel safe, utterly and completely.

“Me, too,” she muttered back. He released her and grinned.

“I’ll go get my guitar so you can beat Lopez’s ass.” She laughed and nodded, and he hurried excitedly out the door. Santana rolled her eyes and muttered to herself.

“Hey, babe, while we’re waiting for Sammy, check that tweet you posted about us,” Quinn piped up, and Rachel immediately grabbed her phone and opened Twitter.

_ @sunshineberry:  _ HOLY FUCK DSDJDSJDJKKG

_ @rachelsbarbra:  _ HELLO??????? FUCJ I- well now we know why she was the first rt dhshfshdjs

_ @rachelberryswhore:  _ im debating changing my user to quinnfabrayswhore…… she’s so beautiful. perhaps we stan

_ @BrittanySPierce:  _ aw you guys are so cute! Tell san i’m closing early tonight ;)

_ @lesbianluthor:  _ **@BrittanySPierce** GIRL- 

_ @rachelberryswhore:  _ **@BrittanySPierce** ok goals. i’d close early too if santana was my wife

“Santana, tell your wife to stop oversharing on the Internet,” Rachel giggled as she let Santana read the tweets. She snorted.

“User ‘rachelberryswhore’ makes wonderful points. I’m gonna go respond to that, hold on.”

_@santanalopez:_ **@BrittanySPierce** **@rachelberryswhore** bro same

Rachel rolled her eyes and began typing furiously on her phone.

_ @RachelBerry:  _ **@BrittanySPierce @rachelberryswhore @santanalopez** Santana, stop infesting my comments section and prepare to get destroyed in this sing off. And, RBW, I’m considering changing my username, too.

Quinn laughed that loud, melodious laugh that made Rachel weak in the knees as Rachel’s phone started blowing up with notifications.

_ @rachelberryswhore:  _ **@RachelBerry** OH MY FUCKING GODSDSFJAFAK OF COURSE THIS IS THE TWEET I GET NOTICED FOR. JESUS. also record this sing off i need some content

“Rachel, as your manager, I’m begging you to  _ please  _ not call yourself anyone’s whore on social media,” Kurt said, trying to mask his laughter. Sam returned with a smile on his face and a guitar in his hands.

“Let’s get this thing goin’!”

As Sam Evans tuned his guitar, Ohio Senator Russell Fabray was boarding a plane to Ohio.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really short, only because I was planning on continuing it but it would've been incredibly long and taken me forever to write, so I decided to split it up. This sets up some Big Shit! Comment your thoughts pls

Santana lost.

Surprisingly, though, it was a close competition. In fact, Rachel was actually stunned at Santana’s level of talent; her sultry, raspy voice was beautiful and, if she was being completely honest, kind of incredibly sexy. She sang an acoustic version of 3 by Britney Spears, which would’ve made Rachel’s blood boil if it weren’t for Quinn’s annoyed eye-roll at the song choice. 

Santana was wonderful, but Rachel was extraordinary.

When Kurt procured an electric keyboard from his many bags (he only needed the real piano for the integrity of Rachel’s vocal exercises), and began playing New York State of Mind, Rachel grinned; she had already won. When her mouth opened and the first note spilled out, everyone in the room knew that Santana was done for. After the victor’s performance, and an enthusiastic reaction from everyone, especially Quinn, Sam called his sister over and told her to place her hand on the neck of the guitar.

Santana groaned and Kurt’s mind flew back to the McKinley High choir room; he knew exactly where this was going.

When Sam started singing, Rachel was surprised. He sounded like the frontman for a boyband, and his looks agreed with the assumption. She briefly thought about the fact that she could definitely pull some strings in the music industry and get him some sort of record deal, but all thoughts were wiped from her head when Quinn opened her mouth.

Soft. Gentle. Breathy and soothing. She sounded like an angel.

Rachel closed her eyes and allowed the music to consume her, and she wondered how in the hell she had gotten so, well,  _ lucky. _

She thanked any higher power responsible for making her buy a shitty car that broke down on Lonesome Road.

  
Santana lost, so she had to work on Suzy Pepper’s old Chrysler with Sam while Rachel, the winner, got to have  _ alone time  _ with Quinn. She cursed herself for refusing Tina Cohen-Chang’s offer of voice lessons; if she had taken them, maybe she wouldn’t be stuck calling back parts and tools for Sam to grab while he was in the back.

Sam was in the back, and Santana was alone when the sleek black Mercedes-Benz parked itself at S and Q’s.

Sam was in the back, and Santana was alone when Senator Russell Fabray stepped out of the backseat and looked her dead in the eyes as he straightened his tie.

“Oh,  _ absolutely not.”  _ She surged forward and stood nose to nose with him and said, “I don’t fucking think so. What insane notion makes you think you have the right to be here?” He stared her down.

“I don’t want any trouble. I am here to speak with my daughter.”

With no hesitation, barely a millisecond after he was done speaking,  _ “Don’t  _ call her that. You need to get your ass back in your car and get the Hell out of here before-”

A deafening crash sounded from behind Santana, then she was being yanked away from Russell Fabray, then Sam Evans was towering over the Senator and upper-cutting him in the jaw. The older man dropped to the ground and scrambled back, cradling his face. Sam started to charge forward again, but Santana managed to hold him back. 

“Let me go, Santana! Let me  _ go!”  _ Sam growled. Russell stood with a grunt and rubbed his jaw. Then he reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.

“I’ll make you two a deal.” Sam stilled in Santana’s arms, so she slowly let him go. The fire still raged in his eyes. His knuckles were white. “Give this to my daughter, and if she calls me by the end of the day tomorrow, I won’t press charges on this… heathen,” he said as his eyes roamed over Sam in disgust. Santana moved to restrain him again, but he shrugged her off and approached Russell, deathly calm. He snatched the business card out of his hands and stepped closer. Russell stepped back.

“I suggest you control your guard dog, Miss Lopez. Violence isn’t a good look on anyone.” Sam chuckled wryly and shook his head in disbelief.

“You… you just suck so bad, man. Do you even realized how much of a piece of shit you are? Are you proud of the fact that you almost killed your child?” Sam called to Russell as he climbed back into the Mercedes and shut the door. Sam flipped the car off as it drove away. Then he turned to Santana, the fire in his eyes being extinguished by panic. She was staring at the empty lot, her jaw set in anger.

“Santana, we can’t let her talk to him. We can’t let him near her.” Her eyes snapped to Sam.

“We can’t let him press charges against you, either. If all it’ll take for him to not do that is to get Quinn to talk to him, we have to do it. She can just refuse whatever offer he has to make.”

“And what if it’s not an offer? What if it’s a threat? Or blackmail? I handle a few community service hours. Q can’t handle seeing that man.” He shoved the card into his back pocket and ran his hands through his hair.

“Sam, he could tell people that you violently attacked him. That wouldn’t look good for us. It would push us down to his level. God, why did you have to do that?” she snapped back as she began pacing back and forth. Sam’s jaw dropped.

“Are you serious? Are you telling me it was  _ wrong  _ of me to hit him? Jesus, San!”

“No! No, that’s not what I’m saying. I loved seeing that fuckface get clocked. But, he can spin it around on us, paint us as bad people.”

“So, people will forgive him for attempted murder because I gave him a shiner? That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“I know it is, but my point is that he now has ammunition against us. He can twist the story. Politicians do that for a fucking living. If we want to take him down, we have to hold all the cards. If he gets one move, it’s all over, because we’re just a bunch of small-town mechanics and he’s the  _ Senator.  _ It’s his word against ours. We have to get Quinn to talk to him. It’s the only way we can finish this off.” Sam leaned against the Chrysler, thinking hard.

“Santana, you know how she is. She doesn’t like to confront her traumas. What if seeing him breaks her?” he asked softly, his eyes cast down. Santana sighed and moved to rest next to him against the Chrysler.

“I know.” She stared at her hands. “We have the rest of today and most of tomorrow to figure out what to do. We can think it over while we work, and while Q is distracted with Rachel.” He nodded and looked at her, a small smile making its way to his lips.

“I’m glad Rachel is here.”

“Me, too,” Santana whispered in reply. She met his eyes. “Quinn wouldn’t sacrifice all the progress we’ve made just because she doesn’t want to see him. She’s known there could potentially be a confrontation ever since we came up with this. She would talk to him.”

“Or she would run. She runs from everything. It’s like, her thing.” Santana shook her head.

“Not anymore. Not since Rachel.”

“This is different, San. This is her dad. He nearly killed her, and he was supposed to protect her. This is big.”

“She told the world. She’s already confronted him.”

“That’s not the same. You know that.” Santana hung her head low and held her face in her hands.

“Dammit,” she mumbled, then pushed herself off the car and started pacing again. Then she stopped and met Sam’s eyes. “Let’s just get to work. We have a lot of thinking to do.”

 

Rachel’s eyes flew open at the sound of the crash from downstairs, but Quinn didn’t stop kissing her neck.

“Quinn, honey?”

“Mmm?”

“Did you hear that? Should we go check on them?” Quinn sighed and pulled away, propping herself up on her arms to meet Rachel’s darkened eyes. Quinn moved her girlfriend’s hands from her thighs to her waist until she got the hint and pulled her closer.

“Rachel Berry, I’m straddling you half-naked right now. Do you want to worry about my brother’s clumsiness, or do you want me to get more naked?” Rachel grinned.

“I want you to get more naked.”

Quinn smiled and reattached her lips to Rachel’s neck, blissfully unaware of the fact that she was in the eye of a storm.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i really don't like this chapter but im super excited for the next one so just bear with me! as always, comments are greatly appreciated

Sam finished replacing the battery in Suzy Pepper’s Chrysler and slammed the hood of the car closed. He wiped his forehead, smudging grease onto his forehead. Santana wordlessly handed him a cloth to clean it off. He sighed in defeat.

“Fine. Fine, we can tell her. Not today, we should let her have fun today with Rachel, but we’ll tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Quinn called as she strutted into the shop, hand in hand with Rachel. Sam’s mouth dropped open and he looked desperately to Santana for help.

“Oh, I uh… I-”

“Have a nice sex marathon with Hobbit, Q?” Santana snapped quickly, interrupting Sam’s stuttering. Quinn raised a brow in suspicion.

“Yeah, it was great. What do you guys need to tell me?” Sam and Santana looked at each other, trying to find anything to say that wasn’t the truth. “Guys.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared them down.

“Um…”

“Okay, fine. This morning, Russell showed up here,” Santana said with a defeated sigh. Quinn tensed, and her arms slowly dropped to her sides.

“Wh-What?”

“He showed up this morning, and Sam punched him in the face. He told us he won’t press charges on him if you call him by tomorrow night.” Rachel stood behind Quinn, too stunned to think of how to comfort her girlfriend.

“Well, Jesus, Santana, good job sticking to the plan!” Sam exclaimed as he threw the dirty cloth on the ground before turning to Quinn. “Q, I can handle it if he presses charges. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. I promise, I’ll be okay. Punching that bitch is worth a few community service hours.” Quinn stared at him for a while, mouth agape, before she barrelled forward and tackled him in a hug. “Woah, hey!” he grunted, “Not the reaction I was expecting, but I’ll take it.”

“You… you really punched him in the face? For me?” she asked softly. He chuckled as he looked down at her.

“I would kill him for you. But don’t tell anyone I said that, we can’t have anything compromising the cause,” he added sarcastically with a pointed glare at Santana. Quinn looked between them in confusion.

“Trouty didn’t want to tell you, he thought it would fuck you up. I think we need to stop him from pressing charges, because Sam being violent would look bad for us. Clearly I was right, as usual, because you’re not fucked up,” Santana explained, tone even.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Quinn sighed before sinking down to sit on the floor. Santana raised her eyebrows; Quinn sitting on the floor of a dirty auto repair shop was not helping her case. Rachel sprang into action at the sight, moving to sit next to her girlfriend and wrap her arms around her. “This is hard.”

“I know, Q, and that’s why I-” Sam started, but he was cut off by his sister.

“Not just talking to him. This whole…” she gestured her arms around, “thing has been… incredibly hard.” Rachel rubbed Quinn’s lower back like she’d seen Santana do, like the doctor had taught Santana. “I’ve been reading the comments on the video, and most of them have been supportive, but some…” she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “People are telling me that I deserved it. That they support Russell even more now because he tried to rid the world of a disgusting dyke like me.” She was staring hard at the ground, fidgeting with her hands. Tears immediately sprang to Rachel’s eyes and she placed a hand on Quinn’s thigh to ground herself.

“Quinn… what he did was evil. Pure fucking evil. You didn’t deserve it, and you don’t deserve the shit you’re getting for telling the truth. You are loved. I think B and I made that abundantly clear after it happened,” Santana said with a small smile. Rachel’s hand tightened around Quinn’s thigh possessively; she still hadn’t gotten over some of the jealousy just yet. Quinn grabbed her hand and squeezed it to let her know that it was okay and that her feelings were understood. Rachel’s grip loosened.

“Shut up, San,” Quinn chuckled. Sam looked between the three of them in confusion. Quinn looked up and made eye contact with Santana and said, “Thank you. For what you did.” Rachel scooted impossibly closer to Quinn to stake her claim, and Santana laughed at the movement.

“Chill out, Berry. It only happened twice.”

 _“Twice?”_ Rachel screeched and whipped around to look at Quinn. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Quinn’s posture turned defensive.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you _not_ want me to spare all the gory details?” she snapped, and Rachel held her hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m just surprised. I wasn’t expecting twice,” she mumbled in response. Sam raised his hand slowly.

“Uh, can someone tell me what the hell we’re talking about?”

“Oh, shit,” Quinn muttered. Santana turned to Sam with a neutral expression.

“Quinn, Brittany and I had a threesome in your house. Twice,” she deadpanned. Sam’s jaw fell to the floor and her turned bright red. Quinn was desperately trying not to laugh. Santana snickered. “Look, Q, he’s totally chanting ‘mailman’ in his head right now.” This made Quinn burst out laughing, the loudest laugh any of them had ever heard from her, and soon Santana was joining in, then it was impossible for Rachel not to laugh, even though she didn’t understand the joke. Sam was the last to start, probably out of embarrassment, but then he fell flat on his back and started howling with laughter.

Kitty Wilde stood in the doorway of the garage, watching with a raised eyebrow. Rachel Berry was leaning into Quinn’s side, crying laughing, while Quinn clutched her stomach in attempt to ease her muscles. Santana Lopez was doubled over, which was a weird position considering she was sitting down, and Sam Evans was sprawled out on the floor looking like he was dying. They were all cackling uncontrollably, right on the dirty concrete of the shop, and none of them heard her courtesy knock on the wall to signal her arrival. She smirked and pulled out her phone to snap a few pictures; this was _so_ going on Twitter later.

“Hello, wicked witches. What’s with the cackling?” she asked as she strode into the room. Santana snapped up, her face beet red, looking the most free and relaxed that she’d ever been.

“Oh, hey! It’s this bitch! Q, it’s Kitty!” she hollered before collapsing into another fit of giggles. Quinn made eye contact with Kitty, grinning uncontrollably.

“Hey, Kitty Wilde! What brings you to our neck of the woods?” she asked, attempting to keep a straight face, but after she asked the question, Rachel exploded again, and it caused another round of howling.

“Okay, are you guys high?” Kitty questioned as she moved to sit down next to Sam. “And yes, I’m joining the pow-wow, and I want whatever you just smoked.”

“No, no, we’re not high, we’re just…” Rachel started, then looked around. “I guess we’re just happy.” She grinned up at Quinn, who pulled her into a lingering kiss. Kitty cleared her throat.

“Well, anyways,” she said loudly as they broke apart, “I just came by to tell you guys that I’m really proud. What you did was incredibly brave, Q.” The laughter died out and they all stared at Kitty.

“Wow, I think that’s, like, the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Santana mumbled, and Kitty rolled her eyes.

“Like you’re one to talk.” Before Santana could retort, Quinn interrupted.

“Thanks, kiddo. I appreciate it.”

“I… I feel bad that I didn’t know. I mean, I knew you were emotionally stunted by the car accident, but this is a whole new level of your fucked up psyche. I feel bad that you didn’t think you could talk to me.” Rachel gaped at the teenager; she had never met anyone so blunt. Quinn sighed.

“It had nothing to do with you. I just… I used to pack all my baggage up and shove it down into a deep, dark corner of my brain. But, I guess a lot of things have changed in the past few weeks,” Quinn replied, smiling softly down at Rachel. Santana rolled her eyes fondly, then Quinn snapped out of her gaze and looked around at everyone with a determined expression. “If he wants to play a little game, let’s play.” She held one hand out to Sam for the business card as the other reached into her pocket for the phone. Sam blinked rapidly at her.

“Ri-Right now? Is that a good idea?”

“Now is as good a time as any,” Quinn replied swiftly, hand still waiting for the card. He fumbled around in his back pocket for a bit until he fished it out.

“Uh, what are we doing?” Kitty asked.

“Calling Russell,” Quinn replied as she dialed the number. She put the phone on speaker then placed it on the floor in the middle of the circle. Someone answered on the fourth ring.

 _“Senator Fabray’s office, how may I help you?”_ The woman’s voice was gentle, and tired. She tried to sound peppy, but it wasn’t working.

“This is Quinn Fabray. I was told to call this number.” There was a moment’s hesitation on the other end of the call.

_“Oh… Oh, yes, Miss Fabray! I’ve been instructed to tell you to be at Breadstix and seven o’clock tomorrow night. Does that make any sense to you?”_

“Great, now that bastard is gonna ruin Breadstix for us!” Santana exclaimed, and Quinn nodded at Kitty, who reached over and slapped the Latina on the leg.

“Shut up, Santana,” Quinn hissed. “Yeah, crystal clear.”

 _“Good.”_ A pause. _“Miss Fabray?”_

“Yes?” The woman was silent for such a long time, everyone thought she had hung up. Quinn’s finger was hovering over the end call button when she spoke.

 _“I support you.”_ It was a quick, quiet whisper, and then the line went dead. The group all exchanged confused looks.

“Well, that was weird,” Kitty drawled. Everyone nodded in agreement.

“I’ve had enough Russell bullshit for one day. Do y’all wanna go to Britt’s?” Sam asked, and Santana jumped to her feet.

“Is that even a question?” she called, already running over and jumping into the bed of Quinn’s truck. “Everybody pile in right now, I need to get my lady lovin’ on.” Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana as Rachel stood up and extended a hand out to help Quinn. The blonde took the offer with a grin.

Once Kitty, Sam and Santana were piled in the back and Rachel sat in the passenger’s seat beside Quinn, concern washed over Rachel. She turned to look at her girlfriend with those soulful brown eyes as Quinn put the truck in drive.

“So… that was a big move. Are you okay?” she asked gently, and Quinn immediately took Rachel’s hand in her own.

“To be honest? No. I’m not ready to see him, but I don’t think I’ll ever be. I have you, though, so I know I’ll be okay no matter what happens. As long as you’re by my side, Rachel Berry.” As she finished her sentence, she stopped at a red light, and Rachel took the opportunity to pull her into a searing kiss.

“Always. I’ll always be by your side, Quinn Fabray.”

Kitty banged on the back window and said, “Stop being gay, the light is green!” and Quinn released her loud laugh, and Rachel reluctantly pulled away.

The five of them crammed into a corner booth at Britt’s, and the owner soon joined them, along with Kurt Hummel and his father, and everyone was warm and safe and happy and full, and maybe tomorrow night wouldn’t be so bad, because Quinn had a family to come home to when it was over.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens... Comment your thoughts! (And leave suggestions for a better title lol)

A sharp knock on the door broke Quinn out of her light sleep. She groaned as she sat up on the couch, disentangling herself from Rachel and looking at the time on her phone. Nine thirty in the morning. And no texts from any of her friends warning her of their arrival. Who could be at the door if it wasn’t someone she knew? Uninvited guests hadn’t been the most pleasant these days. She sighed to herself and got to her feet and trudged to the door.

When she opened it, the tall, thin, pretty girl on the other side immediately started talking.

“He’s going to try to buy you out.” Quinn blinked hard; was she still asleep?

“Excuse me?”

“Senator Fabray. He’s gonna offer you a large sum of money to delete the video and never speak of the incident again,” she rambled quickly, waving her arms around. “Can I come in? Thanks.” Without waiting for an answer, she pushed past Quinn and hurried into the apartment. She threw her bag onto the counter and immediately started digging through it.

“Uh, who the hell are you? Not to be rude,” Quinn said loudly, snapping the girl out of her frenzy. Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn saw Rachel stirring awake on the couch.

“Oh, shit. I forgot to introduce myself, didn’t I?” She hurried back over to Quinn and stuck out her hand. “My name is Marley Rose. We spoke on the phone yesterday.” As Quinn hesitantly shook Marley Rose’s hand, the one very important phone call she made yesterday popped into her head.

“You’re… Are you Russell’s secretary?” Marley smiled sadly.

“I was.” Quinn tilted her head slightly in confusion. She noticed Rachel watching silently from the couch.

“What happened since yesterday?”

“All phone calls at the office are monitored and recorded. No secrets,” she said with a slight chuckle. “I got fired this morning for what I said before I hung up.”

“That you support me?”

“Yeah, that. After getting fired, I jumped in my car and drove here from Columbus. I have information I think you could use.” With that, she turned and started rifling through her bag again.

“Okay, okay. Slow down. I just woke up and this is really fucking with my head. How do you know where I live?” Marley sighed and turned around. She didn’t notice Rachel Berry watching with wide eyes; she was too focused on the task at hand.

“Your car shop is listed as a public address. It was just luck that you live on top of it. I was planning on just camping out in the parking lot until you came in until I noticed the staircase.” Quinn trudged over to the counter and sat on the barstool closest to where Marley was standing.

“And how do I know you’re not just here to get information on our plans so you can report them back to Russell? And Rachel, stop lurking and make some coffee.” Quinn had snapped out of her tired haze; it was all business now. Marley’s head swiveled around to watch Rachel as the actress clambered over the back of the couch and moved sluggishly over to Quinn. She wrapped her arms around the blonde from behind and smacked a kiss on her cheek.

“Good morning to you, too, my love. And you, Miss Rose,” she greeted, her voice still raspy with sleep. Quinn couldn’t help the warm smile that spread across her lips. She turned her head slightly and kissed Rachel softly, and quickly; they had company. And morning breath.

“Coffee?” she asked sweetly, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am. And, Miss Rose, please answer my girlfriend’s question,” Rachel added as she strode over to the coffee maker. Marley stuttered helplessly for a few seconds before Quinn took pity on her.

“Okay, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But, you worked for Russell until, like, five seconds ago. Why the change of heart?” Marley shook her head to clear it before speaking.

“Well, I never really agreed with his views. I just needed the money to support my mom and me, and it paid well. Plus, it was the only job that was willing to hire someone with such little experience. I charmed my way in,” she added with a laugh. “I can see how that would be hard to believe, due to this morning, but I’m usually not this excited. Can I please show you how I can help?” Quinn nodded and Marley pulled three huge binders out of her bag. “I acted as stenographer in all of Mr. Fabray’s meetings for the past two years. These are all of the transcripts; I swiped them when I was cleaning out my desk. The stuff that the media is reporting on is just the tip of the iceberg. He’s got major plans to further his agenda, which is quickly spinning into alt-right territory. Almost Neo-Nazi. All of it is in those binders, plus in my head. Nothing that happened in that office didn’t go through me. If you need anything on him, I’m your gal.” Rachel had abandoned the coffee and was just staring at Marley, the pot swinging limply in her hand. Quinn had the exact same expression on her face.

“Wow, that’s… that’s a lot.” She ran her hands through her hair and turned to Rachel. “Uh, can you call Kurt and Santana and tell them to get over here? If everything she’s saying is true, we’ve got a much bigger problem on our hands.” Rachel nodded and headed out of the kitchen. Marley’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wait, what’s the problem? I thought the goal was to expose him,” she said.

“It is, but if his views are even more radical than we thought, he’s not gonna back down. He’ll fight back, hard. Neo-Nazis can’t be negotiated with.”

“Right, that’s what I was saying. He’s going to try and pay you off tonight at seven,” Marley replied. “If you don’t accept, he’s going to issue a statement denying the whole thing ever happened.” Quinn scoffed.

“Seriously? The evidence we have against him is overwhelming. He can’t just deny the facts.” Marley moved to sit down next to Quinn as she locked eyes with her.

“He’s planning to lie. To ramble on about the ‘gay agenda’ and all of that. Which is why I think you need to get him to a place where he can’t lie.” Her tone was calm, deathly calm, and it almost scared Quinn.

“What do you mean?” Quinn drawled.

“We need him under oath. You should press charges.” Quinn’s mouth dropped open; she honestly hadn’t thought of that. 

“You’ve really thought this through, huh?”

“Are you kidding? It’s all I’ve thought about for the past few days. I’ve dreamed up every scenario possible in which that bastard goes down. I’ve dealt with him ordering me around for the past two years because I needed the money, but when I saw your video… when I saw those pictures of what he did to you, I realized that I’d rather be living on the streets than working for him.” Quinn stared for a moment before pulling Marley into a surprising hug. Rachel returned with a raised brow at the sight.

“Sorry,” Quinn mumbled, pulling away quickly. “It’s just really nice to hear something like that. It’s one thing to read it online, but when someone shows up on your doorstep offering to help you even though it cost them their job is… it’s just really nice.” Marley smiled at her.

“Trust me, there’s no place I’d rather be. I have a whole plan mapped out in my head, can I share it with you?” she asked, bouncing in her seat from excitement.

“Kurt and Santana are on their way. Should we wait for them, honey?” Rachel piped up, now resuming the coffee-making process. 

“Uh, yeah. Kurt and Santana helped me out a lot with the video and stuff, and they’re our most strategic minds,” Quinn explained to Marley.

“Santana was there when it happened, right?” Quinn nodded. “She should go with you tonight. To Breadstix. Based on the video, I assume she’s pretty intimidating. Plus, a united front will show Senator Fabray that you aren’t messing around.” Rachel frowned slightly at this; she was planning on asking Quinn if she wanted her to tag along for moral support. But, Marley was right. Santana and Quinn were Russell’s victims, and meeting them face-to-face might shake him up. It was a good tactic.

“Just call him Russell, babycakes. Or Satan, or Fuckhead Fabray. We don’t respect him here,” Santana said as she strode into the apartment, leaving the door open behind her. “Hurry up, Tickle-Me Doughface, it isn’t  _ that  _ hard to walk in heels!” she called without turning around. Quinn snorted and Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Fuck off, she-devil,” Kurt mumbled as he made his entrance. He was not wearing heels.

“Marley Rose, this is Kurt Hummel and Santana Lopez. Kurt is wonderful and Santana is a giant bitch,” Quinn introduced, and Santana grinned.

“Thanks, Q,” she replied, ruffling the blonde’s hair as she walked past. “So, whatever your name is, what do you have for us, and why should we care?”

“She was Russell’s secretary for two years, and knows what he’s gonna try to pull tonight, so please refrain from being an asshole to her,” Rachel replied with a roll of her eyes as she set down a steaming cup of coffee in front of Quinn.

“You can’t tell me what to do, Benedict Arnold,” Santana snapped back, earning a slap on the shoulder from Kurt that she ignored. She rested her arms on the counter and leaned closer to Marley to give her a once-over. “Give us the deets, princess.”

 

Marley’s information was incredibly helpful; she told them Russell’s intentions for the seven o’clock dinner, and advised them on how to approach him. She made a point to tell Santana that screaming and threatening wouldn’t do any good; he would think that he had gotten under their skin, and he would push harder. Acting cool and collected would frighten him the most. If they had confidence and a sense of superiority, he would get nervous. After a long discussion with the secretary, Quinn offered up the guest room to her, in case she wanted to stay and help them plan out the next steps of attack. She accepted immediately, and jumped in her car to drive back down to Columbus to grab some clothes and inform her mother. She returned in record time. Her trip was six hours total, and the drive was two hours each way. Santana deemed her the Speed Demon.

Now, everyone was gathered in the parking lot at 6:50, bidding goodbye and good luck to Santana and Quinn.

“And remember, don’t make a scene. You have to keep control of the situation, even if he thinks he has it. We’re one step ahead of him, but he can’t know it,” Marley rambled, opening the driver’s side door of the truck for Quinn.

“Marley, it’s gonna be fine. Your help has been incredible, and it’s gonna pay off. Plus, we have our friend Kitty camped out in a booth to intervene if anything goes wrong. She can pull us out of there, no problem,” Quinn replied, placing a hand on Marley’s forearm to calm her down. “Take a deep breath.” She turned to Rachel and wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to ignore the sound of Santana and Kurt on the other side of the truck bickering like an old married couple.

“I’m anxious about this,” Rachel admitted softly, looping her arms around Quinn’s neck. “I wish I could go with you.” Quinn placed a kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead.

“I know, my love. But I’ll be okay. We have the upper hand, and once this is over, I’ll come home to you and we can forget about him for the rest of the night, okay?” Rachel sighed and pressed her forehead against Quinn’s.

“Okay.” A deep breath, then a lingering kiss. “You got this, honey. Bring Santana and Kitty back in one piece.” Quinn grinned.

“I’ll try my best.” Another kiss, then she was hopping into the truck.

“I look perfect, Hummel! Get your hands off me,” came Santana’s voice from outside. Quinn rolled her eyes.

“Your hair is fucked up!” The sound of Santana slapping Kurt’s hands away made her chuckle, but they had to get moving. She honked the horn twice.

“Get your ass in the truck, Lopez!” Santana grumbled something under her breath as she got into the passenger’s seat and slammed the door in Kurt’s face.

“Happy? Let’s move.” As they backed out of the parking lot, Kurt, Marley and Rachel waved enthusiastically, and Quinn smiled at the sight. 

She was ready for this.

 

They immediately spotted Russell Fabray. He was in the last booth on the front row, farthest from the exit. Quinn’s lips quirked up the slightest bit when she saw Kitty peeking over a menu two tables away. 

Then she locked eyes with her father, and a shiver crawled down her spine.

She felt Santana’s hand make its way to her own, so she squared her shoulders and marched over to his table.

“Hello, Quinn,” he greeted, cold as ever. She tensed at the sound of his voice. She tightened her jaw and kept her eyes open as she remembered Rachel’s soothing, loving touch. The rigidity lessened. Neither she or Santana responded as they slid into the other side of the booth, and neither of them took their eyes off of Russell.

“Let’s skip the small talk. What do you want?” Quinn said, hand squeezing Santana’s tightly. Her friend’s grip was just as hard. Russell clasped his hands together on the table.

“I will admit, you all have created quite the stink.”

“Good,” Santana snapped, and his eyes darted to her and gave her the classic Fabray stare-down. She didn’t falter.

“While I find this whole situation incredibly unnecessary, it seems that you don’t feel the same.”

“You’d be correct. We want payback for what you did. You mess up my life, I mess up yours,” Quinn responded evenly, much more calm than she felt. Her tone worked, it appeared; something flashed in his eyes before the mask of indifference was repositioned.

“Well, I can provide you with payback. I am prepared to offer you a large settlement in exchange for a recall of your statements. With the money, you can expand your business, live comfortably. We won’t have to deal with this mess anymore,” he replied, a tight smile forced to his lips. Quinn laughed lightly, surprising everyone at the table.

“Oh, Russell, you’re so naive. We don’t want your money. We don’t want  _ anything  _ from you. Want we want is retribution. And we won’t stop until we get it.” Russell and Santana both stared at her in mild shock. The Senator recovered first with a clearing of his throat.

“I’m offering you four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Take the money and drop this. Quinn,” he demanded, one of his hands curling into a fist on the table. Quinn’s first reaction was to recoil in fear, but she didn’t. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, so she leaned forward, getting right in his face.

“You can’t tell me what to do anymore, Russell. You gave up that privilege a long time ago. You can offer me a million dollars, and I wouldn’t take it. Your money means nothing to me. Your suffering is my currency,” she replied lowly, slowly, and incredibly calm. She thought she heard him gasp quietly before he relaxed his hand and leaned back. She retreated to her side of the table, settling in next to Santana. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins; she felt like she could do this for hours.

“Well, then.” He straightened his tie with a smirk. “I suggest you get your affairs in order, Lucy. You will regret this.” Quinn plastered on her fakest smile.

“I can assure you with the utmost certainty that I won’t. Thank you for your time, Senator,” she replied, and his smirk faltered. “If you don’t mind, my friend and I would like to dine alone now.” He was seething; she could tell. He wanted the last word, and she refused to give it to him.

“Very well.” He stood and buttoned his suit jacket, then mirrored her expression. “I will be seeing you soon, Quinn. Enjoy your meal.” Then he walked toward the exit.

Kitty Wilde was in his seat before the door closed behind him. Santana was staring at Quinn, mouth agape.

“How’d it go? Are you okay? What was that weird leaning thing you did?” Kitty questioned, her eyes wide with concern.

“Quinn… that was  _ so  _ awesome,” Santana breathed in awe. Quinn slumped down in her seat, leaning into Santana. She suddenly felt like she had just run a marathon. She vaguely heard Santana relaying the events to Kitty as she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. The reality of what she had just done was beginning to catch up with her. 

She did it.

She confronted her father, she stood up to him and refused to back down.

She had dreamed of the moment for years, and it finally happened. It felt surreal, and kind of incredibly, as Santana said,  _ awesome. _ She started laughing hysterically, clutching her stomach and ignored her friends’ concerned eyes on her.

“That was fucking incredible,” she gasped out between cackles. “I told him that his suffering was my  _ currency.  _ How the hell did I even think of that?” Santana chuckled and wrapped an arm around Quinn’s shoulders.

“You did great, Fabray.”

“I wish I could’ve heard it,” Kitty grumbled, fiddling with the salt shaker on the table.

“I’ll tell you everything else once we get this icon home,” Santana replied, standing up and holding out a hand to help Quinn to her feet. Quinn smiled broadly.

She did it.

And now she got to go home to Rachel Berry.


	17. Personal Update

Hey guys. I'm sorry I haven't updated this story in a while; the past few weeks have been incredibly busy for me, between AP testing, finals week, graduation and a break up on top of everything else. I'm hoping that within the next few days I can churn out a new chapter and get back to writing regularly. Again, sorry for being MIA! And thanks for reading, as always. New chapter coming soon.


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